


Polaris

by Jeneralx9



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur Morgan's Journal, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Language, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 78,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28947585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeneralx9/pseuds/Jeneralx9
Summary: A narrative of Red Dead Redemption 2 in which Arthur Morgan meets a strange woman who always seems to show up when he needs her. But what's her story? And why is she following him?Please note that everyone who dies in the game, dies in this story. Just saying.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 56





	1. An Introduction

_**New York, 1985** _

  
"Welcome to the Museum of American History's special exhibit on the American Frontier," the cheery brunette greeted the family, "My name is Janet and I will be your guide today. I see you have people of all ages in your group!"

"Yes, it's Grandpa Jim's birthday and the grandkids wanted to bring him here," said a middle-aged man pushing a wheelchair containing a very old man. 

"He has Alzheimer's, but he loves everything to do with the wild west," added one of the women. 

"Oh! Well, happy birthday, Grandpa Jim!" Janet spoke loudly and slowly to the old man who didn't acknowledge her. "We have some very special exhibits in store for you. Let's get started!"

Janet spoke animatedly about each of the exhibits, covering the beginnings of the frontier, the wagon trains and emigration to the west, conflicts and treaties with the various native tribes, effects of the Civil War. The old man didn't react to any of them, but his family were busy asking questions and getting closer looks of the artifacts. 

"And here we have our outlaws," Janet led them into the second last room, "We all know them, and we all love them and hate them, but without them, this whole exhibit would not exist."

Janet told stories about each of the gangs and gunslingers of yesteryear. Billy the Kid, Butch Cassidy's Wild Bunch, the Jack Hall Gang, Landon Ricketts, Black Belle, the Dalton Gang. 

"And finally, here we have the Van Der Linde Gang," Janet gestured to a large display behind glass. The old man perked up. 

"Ah, this is the one he wants to see," said the old man's son, "He's had an obsession with Dutch van der Linde and his gang."

"Well we have the largest collection of artifacts from the Van Der Linde Gang!" Janet said excitedly, "We even have filmed interviews from former members. Like here, Mary-Beth Gaskill, also known by Leslie Dupont, gave an interview not long before her death in 1957." She pointed to a picture of a young Mary-Beth which was next to a picture of her older self.

The old man squinted at the pictures. He remembered her. It was so long ago. She was nice. 

"Oh, look at this picture, one of them even had a baby!" one of the younger girls pointed out. 

"That was Abigail Marston, wife of John Marston pictured here," Janet pointed, "And this is their son, Jack."

The old man perked up again. Marston. He hadn't heard that name in a very long time. 

"What happened to them?" asked the girl. 

"Well, John and Abigail tried to make a living for themselves on a ranch with Jack. But John was apparently accosted into hunting down his former gang members by the Bureau of Investigation and found himself returning to the life of a criminal. Details are still sketchy about what really happened, but it ended with John being killed at his ranch. Abigail and Jack went on for a few years until she died, then Jack went his own way. 

"The last documented whereabouts of Jack Marston was when he was drafted into the US Army in early 1918 and sent to France where he went missing in action."

The war. He had forgotten. He didn't want to go. He had vowed never to kill again. So he ran. 

"Probably killed, poor kid," one of the men said, "One of the many unidentified soldiers."

"Aw, that's so sad," one of the younger girls said. 

"Unfortunately one of the realities of war," Janet sighed. 

"So how did the gang disband?"

"Internal rifts, according to a few of the surviving members," Janet said, "Simon Pearson, pictured here, was the gang's cook. He said Dutch van der Linde was led astray by a relatively new member, Micah Bell, who already had a reputation of his own."

Micah Bell. Damn that name. After all these years it still made him internally rage. 

"It was a big gang, couldn't anyone have talked sense into him?" 

"Dutch's right-hand man, Hosea Matthews, pictured here along with Dutch and also a younger Arthur Morgan, did try to keep things under control. Dutch used to listen to Hosea, but began dismissing him and others as not keeping the faith or disbelieving in him. Hosea was killed during a failed bank robbery a few months before the gang disbanded."

"Ooo, Arthur's a dish," one of the younger girls whispered loudly. 

Janet smiled. "Arthur Morgan is a fascinating story himself. There are records of his criminal doings, but also of goodwill and charity. It particularly escalated after he met his wife, Grace." She pointed to a portrait of a man and woman, slightly blurred as they were smiling at each other. "This photo is a particular rarity seeing as people didn't usually smile in pictures back then. But it is one of my favourites."

"Aw, look at how in love they are," one of the women gushed. 

"Ha, we weren't even official when that was taken." The old man heard another woman's voice somewhere behind him. It sounded familiar. 

"So his wife turned him around, huh?" 

"Well, not entirely. He still participated in a few big heists shortly before his death."

"Ah, law got him, huh?"

"Actually, that's where things get iffy. The surviving gang members said that Grace had been killed by Micah and Arthur confronted Micah, despite being sick with tuberculosis."

"Christ, what a terrible way to go."

"Indeed. Arthur and Grace were buried together. Their grave was found some time ago while they were building a new highway. It was excavated, but the bodies were long gone. They hadn't been buried in coffins and their remains were consumed by the earth. The gravestone was removed and we have it on display over here." Janet led the group further down to a stone grave marker. "The words have been worn by time, but it reads, 'Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. Arthur Morgan and his beloved wife Grace.'" 

"Kind of pretentious, isn't it?" That woman's voice again. 

"I guess it was fitting at the time," a man's voice replied to her. 

Uncle Arthur. 

The old man turned to see where the voices were coming from, but his own family were blocking the view. 

"What is it, Dad?" his son leaned down to him, "Did you want to see something back here?" He pushed the wheelchair back to the picture display. "Tell you what, you can spend time here and we'll continue with the guide for the rest of the room. We're just over here, okay?" He locked the wheelchair in place. 

The old man looked up at the pictures. He knew their faces, but couldn't remember names. He stopped at the picture of the couple. Who were they again? 

"Whatever happened to the other picture?" A woman with black hair appeared beside him, looking at the same picture. 

"Don't know. Lost, I suppose." She was joined by a middle-aged man. 

"Shame. Though I think I like this one better."

"It was a good day."

"Uncle Arthur?" the old man asked quietly. The man turned towards him with a slight smile. 

"Hello, Jack," the woman greeted him with a smile. 

"Miss Grace?"

"That's right, how are you?"

"But... you're dead," he pointed towards the gravestone. 

"Yes, it does seem that way, doesn't it?" Grace said, "Can we come visit you later? We can talk then."

Jack nodded, unsure if he should believe what he was seeing. 

"Good, we'll see you then," Grace reached down and squeezed his hand quickly before walking away. Arthur patted him on the shoulder lightly and followed her. 

Jack looked back at the picture. They didn't look a day older than the last time he saw them. How?

\---

"He is not!"

"I bet he is! It makes so much sense!" the younger girl argued. 

"Grandpa Jim is NOT Jack Marston and that's the end of it!" his son insisted. 

"No, listen, there is no record of Grandpa Jim before the first world war, right? And there's a record of him returning to Canada from France after the war. Jack Marston went missing in France, then suddenly there's a Jim Milton returning from France?"

"There are a lot of people who have no documentation back then. It's not like today."

"Not to mention Grandpa Jim and Jack Marston were born in the same year. I bet if we compared a picture of him when he was younger he might look like John Marston. AND John Marston used to go by Jim Milton."

"Well, let us know how that goes."

The old man's son tucked him into his bed. "Did you have fun today, Dad?"

The old man nodded. Jack Marston? The name sounded familiar. But his name was Jim, not Jack. Or was it Jack, not Jim?

"Good, we'll be back tomorrow for another visit, okay? You had a long day, get some rest." 

"Oo, wait, I got him this," the younger girl took a thick book out of her shopping bag. "It's a replica of Arthur Morgan's journal, I thought he'd like to read it."

"You know he doesn't read anymore."

"Well, he can look at the pictures. Or maybe we can read it to him." She approached the bed. "Here, Grandpa, I'm going to put this over here so you can look at it." She set the book down on the nightstand and kissed him on the cheek. "See you tomorrow!"

The rest of the family bid him goodbye and left. Strange. Who were they? He glanced over at the book. 'Journal of an Outlaw', the title read, with a photo of that man. Oh, Arthur Morgan. Uncle Arthur. 

There was a knock on the door and a woman entered. 

"Hello again, Jack, can we come in?" she asked. He nodded. She looked familiar. A man followed her in. 

"Uncle Arthur."

"See, I told you he'd remember you," the woman smiled back at the man. 

"But does he remember you?"

"Do you know who I am, Jack?" the woman asked him gently. 

"No."

"It's okay, you didn't know me for very long anyway," she sat down on the bed, "I'm Grace."

"Miss Grace."

"That's right! Maybe you do remember. It has been a while."

"How?"

"Goodness, I wish I could explain easily," Grace took his hand in hers. "It's a long story." 

"About as long as this," Arthur picked up the book from the nightstand, "Jesus, they actually published this nonsense?"

"Printed journals are quite popular," said Grace, "I should've picked up a copy myself. Too bad no one found my journal. The things I wrote about you in there."

"Good things, I hope."

"Not always."

"Hah, same," Arthur sat in a chair and cleared his throat before reading out loud. "'Met that Grace woman again. Startled the bejeezus out of me. One day I might end up shooting her, but whether it's an accident is left to be seen.'"

"Sounds about right," Grace laughed, "Thank you for not shooting me."

"You were shot," Jack spoke up, "You were shot. Dead."

Grace looked at him for a moment. "Yes. I was. But you lived."

"I think we should start from the beginning," Arthur leaned forward, closing the book in his lap. 

"My beginning, or yours?"

"Mine. We don't have that much time." 

"Sounds good," Grace squeezed Jack's hand again and nodded. 

"So there we were, on the run again, and the monster of all blizzards rolled in..." Arthur started. 


	2. Colter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is the woman who seemed to follow the gang deep in the mountains to Colter?

_**May 1899** _

  
It was freezing in the mountains. Snow was blowing in sideways and Arthur Morgan was getting worried. He had to find shelter for the rest of the gang and fast. It was only a matter of time before the wagons got stuck. His own horse was struggling through the snow. 

A movement ahead of him cause him to stop. He raised his lantern for a better look. It was a horse, a blue roan appaloosa with a white face and blue eyes. He wondered how it got all the way up here, and how it's survived so far in the blizzard. Maybe there was shelter nearby. 

The appaloosa turned to him, pawed the ground, then turned away at a trot. Arthur urged his own horse to follow. A short bit later he saw the silhouettes of houses. A small town of some sort. The appaloosa stopped and turned back to Arthur. 

"Hello?" he shouted. None of the buildings had any sort of light and no smoke coming from the chimneys. It seemed to be abandoned. He dismounted and approached the appaloosa. The horse reared and galloped away. He checked out the buildings, each one empty and cold. But it was shelter from the snow and there was plenty of room for all of them. There was even a barn for the horses. 

He quickly mounted up again and hurried back to the gang who were hopefully still slowly making their way through the snow to let them know the good news. 

_We have been running for weeks. The job they was pulling in Blackwater, robbing that ferry, it turned into a disaster._

_Young Jenny got killed, poor thing, while Sean and Mac both got arrested or killed, nobody seems sure which._

_Then, as we were fleeing east over the Grizzlies, an almighty storm hit us._

_Davey Callendar, who got shot in the gut on the raid, passed away, it was brutal to watch, and the rest of us nearly froze, but have we found shelter and have been resting here in some old abandoned mining town while we await the thaw._

_Seems Colm O'Driscoll had the same ideas as us. He's been hiding up here. We bumped into some of his boys at some farmstead they was robbing, found that poor woman whose husband they had murdered and she's now riding with us as she ain't got no place better to be._

_That fool Marston got himself lost. Thought he ran out again, but Hosea insisted we look for him so Javier and I rode out..._

"Did he even come out this way?" asked Arthur after they had ridden further up the mountain. "We lost the trail some time ago." 

"I don't know," replied Javier, "But we should check anyway."

They heard a whistle and looked. The blue roan appaloosa was ahead with someone on its back. Neither could tell who it was. 

"Is that John?" asked Javier. 

"If it is, that ain't his horse," said Arthur, taking out his binoculars. Through them he saw the rider was a young woman. She waved at them and beckoned. "Seems she wants us to follow her." 

"Maybe she knows where John is," said Javier. 

"Well, we don't have much else to go on," Arthur put his binoculars back in his bag. 

They rode towards the woman and her appaloosa. She turned and led them further around the mountain, always keeping herself far enough ahead of Arthur and Javier. They reached a large hill where she stopped. 

"Look, isn't that the horse John was riding?" Javier pointed at a dead horse off the trail. It had been mauled by animals, wolves maybe.

"Yeah, but where's John?" asked Arthur. 

"Seems she knows," Javier pointed up at the woman who had now dismounted her horse and waved at them to follow her. They dismounted as well and followed. The appaloosa galloped away. 

"Shit, her horse!" Arthur started after it, but Javier stopped him. 

"Don't worry about that now, we need to find John." 

They continued to follow the woman who still managed to keep her distance ahead of them. She whistled loudly and they could hear faint shouting. 

"Help! Over here!"

"Sounds like John," said Javier. 

The woman seemed to effortlessly climb up ledges and through the snow. Arthur and Javier tried to keep up, but she eventually disappeared. They followed her footsteps in the snow. Now they could hear John more clearly. They followed his shouting until they found him, badly injured but alive, on another ledge. 

"Never thought I'd say this, but good to see you, Arthur Morgan," said John. 

"Yeah, well, you've got your friend to thank for that," said Arthur as he jumped down to help lift John up to Javier.

"I thought she was with you," John said, grimacing in pain, "She stopped here, said 'Your friends are coming,' then left." 

"She wasn't with us," said Javier. 

"Well, maybe you've got yourself a guardian angel, Marston," Arthur lifted John on his shoulders, "A strange one, I might say. Best not tell Abigail. You're in bad enough shape as it is."

  
_Don't know who that girl was, but John owes her his life. Strange thing, I'm sure it was her horse I saw trying to find this place. Don't know where she lives, not much around out here. Hope she ain't giving us away._

_Saw her again while hunting with Charles..._

  
The food situation was getting dire, but the weather was now clear enough for them to be able to go hunting for food. Pearson complained that he had sent Lenny and Bill out but they had found nothing, but Charles insisted on going out with Arthur to find some deer. Normally Charles would go out on his own, but due to his injured hand, Arthur would need to be the one to shoot. 

Arthur managed to kill two deer with the bow Charles had lent him. It should be enough for all of them for a little while, hopefully until the snow thawed. 

On the way back, they saw a black bear digging in the snow and decided to give the bear some space. While the bear could provide even more food and a large pelt for warmth, neither had enough space to carry the carcass back. They were about to cross the creek when something caught Arthur's eye. He stopped his horse. 

He saw the same woman who led them to John the other day. She was standing knee deep in the snow and feeding her appaloosa. 

"Hey! Watch yourself, there's a bear 'round here," he called out. Charles stopped his horse and looked back at Arthur. 

"I know, Arthur," he said, confused. 

"Nah, I was talking to the girl over there," Arthur said. 

"What girl?"

Arthur looked back to wear the woman was, but she was gone. He looked around, but there was no sign of her or the horse. 

"You must be getting hungry," Charles said. 

"Yeah, must be," Arthur reluctantly agreed. He was so sure of what he'd seen. He looked back to where he had seen the girl, wondering where she had gone and who she was. 

  
_Seems Colm O'Driscoll had the same ideas as us. He's been hiding up here, scouting out a train he wanted to rob._

_Then, Dutch being Dutch and his hatred for Colm being just as powerful as ever it was, whole bunch of us went to pay him a visit in his camp, but he escaped._

_We grabbed one of his boys. Poor bastard ain't spoken yet, but he will once we freeze him a little, then set Bill on him._

_We got the plans on that train and robbed it ourselves. Nearly missed it when Bill's explosives didn't ignite, but we got on the train anyway. Found some stocks of this Leviticus Cornwall company._

_Then after the others had left and I had sent the train on, I saw that girl again..._

  
Arthur hopped off the moving train and whistled for his horse. Just as the horse trotted up, something caught his eye. The girl was on her appaloosa standing on a nearby hill, watching him. He couldn't risk her running to the law, so he jumped on his horse and kicked it after her. She turned and galloped down the side of the hill. 

"Hey! Wait a minute!" he shouted, chasing after her. She zig zagged through the trees, gaining distance from him. "You! Stop right there!"

Arthur then realised she was heading straight for a deep ravine. "Stop!" 

Her horse leapt over the ravine, landing cleanly on the other side. She stopped and looked back. Arthur slid to a halt at the edge of the cliff. It seemed an impossible jump to make. He looked across at the woman who smiled and waved, then trotted away. 

He wiped his face, then turned to head back to camp. Somehow, he knew that she wouldn't rat them out. But who was she? Why was she following him? Very curious. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter for a short game chapter. Thanks for reading!


	3. Horseshoe Overlook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Arthur finally meets the strange woman.

_Finally a thaw in this god awful weather We got off the mountain and rode east into some pretty enough country called the Heartlands._

_Sure enough, I saw that strange girl again. Beginning to think she's a ghost or something. One minute she's there, the next gone._

  
Everyone was eager to get out of the snow and cold, so packed up very quickly. Arthur found himself driving the last wagon sitting next to Hosea who told them of a decent bit of land outside of a town called Valentine where they could hole up for a while. 

As they were crossing the river, he noticed the blue roan appaloosa and the woman further down the bank. She was leaning forward in her saddle, watching them. 

When they reached the other side of the river, Arthur wanted to turn to see if she was still there but the wagon violently shook as a back wheel fell off. He swore and jumped off the wagon to inspect it. As he did, he glanced down the river and saw that the woman and her horse had gone. He shrugged it off and with the help of Hosea and Charles, fixed the wheel and continued on. 

By the time they reached the new camp, Horseshoe Overlook, the rest of the gang had already started setting up. It was a nice enough place, hidden from the main roads but also had a nice view over the river below.

Miss Grimshaw already had Arthur's bed and area set up. He was happy to see his old photos had been saved. He sat on his cot, removed his heavy winter coat and picked up the framed picture of Mary. It's been years, but he still held a torch for her. He always wondered how she was doing, but could never bring himself to try to find out, especially since she had married someone else. 

He replaced the picture carefully and changed into clothing more suitable for the weather. It was good to be out of the snow. 

  
_Been a few days. Dutch seems a little better. His eyes are sparkling once more and I can see he's thinking a little clearer._

_I think we all feel a little happier in spite of Blackwater and that whole mess._

_Headed into Valentine with Uncle and the girls. Girls went scouting out work while Uncle and I had a few drinks._

_Things took a strange turn - some fella seemed to recognize me, or us from Blackwater. I chased the bastard and he nearly fell off a cliff - I spared him and he gave me an ink pen._

  
Arthur pocketed the pen and wondered if he made the right decision. There really wasn't anything stopping this man, Jimmy Brooks, from running to the law, though Jimmy just had the scare of his life. Arthur would have to take extra care not to be followed when he went back to camp. He mounted the horse he had stolen, or rather, borrowed and turned back to Valentine to return it. 

On the road, he saw that familiar blue roan appaloosa being led by the girl. She had a long, black braid and was wearing a light blue blouse and riding pants. She was shorter than he thought, her head just reached the top of her horse's withers. He hurried to catch up to her. 

"Hello," she turned her head to him, still walking. 

"You following us?" he demanded.

"Seems you're following me," she said with a smile. 

"You were up in the mountains." 

"Probably."

"Saw you by that train."

"Probably."

"And then by the river."

"Probably."

"So you are watching us."

"Is that a crime?"

"Why are you watching us?"

"I like watching people."

"Why?"

"People are interesting."

"We ain't that interesting."

"You could have let that man fall but you saved him." 

"You saw that?"

"Like I said, I like watching people."

"So you are watching me?"

"Sometimes."

"Stop watching me."

"Can't help it." She stopped and easily jumped on her horse. She turned back to him. "You're an interesting man, Arthur Morgan. Have a good day." 

He could only watch as she cantered away, shocked that she knew exactly who he was. But who was she? How did she know who he was? Should he be worried?

\---

Arthur returned to Valentine a couple days later, after doing some hunting for Pearson. He met up with Bill, Javier, and Charles in the saloon where things went about as well as it could. 

_Got into some God awful fight in the town saloon. Bill started it. I was stopped from beating some big yokel to death by a local do good-er._

_Afterwards Dutch accosted me with old Josiah Trelawny back and quite as slippery and confusing as ever. Trelawny told us that Sean had not been killed in Blackwater, but was a prisoner there, held by scalp hunters awaiting payment._

  
"Go clean yourself up," said Dutch, "then head over to Blackwater, see if you can't get Sean out of there."

Arthur nodded and headed to the nearest rain barrel to wash the mud off his face. 

"Well, aren't you a sight."

He looked up, startled, and saw the woman with the long, black braid leaning against the wall of the building.

"You still following me?"

"I could ask you the same question," she approached and handed him an embroidered handkerchief. He shook his head. 

"Nah, I'd make a mess of it." 

"That's the point," she smiled. "Go on, it's not like I can't clean it." 

He sighed and took it, wiping the mud from his face as much as he could. "Who are you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"That's why I asked." 

"Grace." She held out her hand. 

"Arthur." He shook her hand before remembering it was still a bit muddy. "Sorry."

"It's fine," she smiled as she wiped her hand on her pants, leaving patches of mud on them. "You okay?" she pointed at his head.

"Yeah," he replied, ignoring his headache.

"More than we can say for ol' Tommy over there," she looked around him at the sight of Tommy being helped by at least four men over to the hotel. 

"Yeah, well, I don't back down in a fight." He held the muddy handkerchief in his hand, debating what to do with it.

"You might need to once in a while," she took the handkerchief back, dunked it in the rain barrel and wrung it out. "You can't win every fight, Mr. Morgan. See you around." She walked away toward the stables. Arthur started to follow her but a wagon crossed his path. When it passed, she had gone.

He shook his head, still wondering whether or not he should be worried by her. But why was she so interested in them? Or in him? But he couldn't worry about that right now. He had a pain in the ass Irish bastard to rescue. 

But first, he could use a drink. The main saloon probably didn't want to see him again, but there was a smaller one just around the corner where he got a bit more than he bargained for. 

_Met some old drunk. Claimed he was a shootist. Seemed more like a clown._

_Some poor fool was writing a book about him, or trying to. Levin was the name of the writer. Jim Calloway was the killer. Apparently Levin needs more information._

_Asked me to find a few folk who have spent more time in publicity than me and knew old Jim back when he was a real killer._

Arthur took the photos of the gunslingers he was to locate and interview and left the saloon.

"So you met the great Jim Boy Calloway, huh?" 

Arthur nearly dropped the photos in surprise. Grace was leaning against the railing outside the bar. 

"You always going to startle me like that?" he asked with a glare.

"You always going to be this grumpy?" She smiled at him. 

"Heh," he smiled back, "Yeah, I sort of met the man, seemed like any other drunk around here," he headed towards the train station with Grace beside him. 

"Who was the other man with him?"

"Some fool who wants to write his biography. Seems to think ol' Calloway's a god of some sort."

Grace snorted. "Good lord. I thought he seemed a funny sort. So what did he ask you to do?"

"Wants me to find other gunslingers to get stories on Calloway," he handed Grace the photos who looked at them with interest. 

"Wow, Black Belle," her eyes widened, "I've definitely heard of her."

"So is she some sort of husband killer?" he asked, pointing to the writing on the back of the photo that said Black Belle was married six times but never divorced.

"Nah, they were all killed by either someone else's bullet or illness," said Grace. "Seems a decent woman. I mean, if you ignore the whole outlaw thing. Billy Midnight and Flaco Hernandez sound familiar, but I don't know anything about them. Emmet Granger turned on his old gang. That's why he was pardoned."

"He ratted them out?" 

"Yep, got a nice payday out of it," she handed the photos back. "He blew all the money, of course, and is now a hog farmer east of Flatneck Station."

"You know him?"

"I passed by once and he made some rude comments," she said. 

"What sort of rude comments?" 

"The sort that men don't usually hear." 

"Well, I'll see what he's got to say for himself."

"Just watch yourself. He's done some nasty things to people."

"So have I."

"Not as bad as Granger."

"I can handle myself."

"I know," she smiled up at him. "Where's your horse?" 

"Back at our camp, I took a wagon in with some others but they've left."

"Without you?" 

"Yeah, well, I did get into a bit of trouble back there."

"Need a ride?"

"Nah, I can walk." 

"You sure?" She stopped. "Or is it that you don't want me to find out where you're staying?"

"We're trying to lie low." 

"And failing spectacularly," she laughed. "Well I can give you a ride partway back if you don't want me to know where you're all located." 

"Sure, fine," he agreed. He figured she could get him close enough to camp without her knowing where they were. 

She whistled for her horse and a few moments later her appaloosa trotted up to them. 

"This is Tuula, by the way," Grace said, petting her horse's nose before mounting. "She can be a mean ol' bitch sometimes, but she takes care of me."

"I know someone like that," Arthur pet Tuula before jumping up behind Grace. "Hard as nails, but couldn't live without her." 

"So which way are we going?"

"South a bit." 

Grace clicked her tongue and Tuula cantered along the path. She had a very smooth gait, unlike any other horse Arthur had ridden before. Before he knew it, they were nearly to Horseshoe Overlook. 

"Here's fine," he said. Grace halted Tuula and he jumped off. "Thanks." 

"Anytime," Grace smiled at him. "See you around, Mr. Morgan." She turned her horse back towards Valentine and Arthur watched her leave. When she was far enough away, he headed down the path through the trees to Horseshoe Overlook. 

"Hey, Arthur," greeted Lenny, "Who was that?"

"Who was who?"

"That woman you were riding with," he said, "Hope she doesn't find us."

"Nah, I've met her a few times, she don't seem like the kind to turn us in."

"Oh, I see," Lenny grinned.

\---

_Charles Smith, Javier and I met in Blackwater and rescued that loud mouthed maniac. Before we'd even cut him free from the tree he was mouthing off at us._

_Javier said Blackwater is an impossible situation and I guess I had better forget about all that money. All them years wasted earning that stuff!_

  
The homecoming party for Sean was well under way. It was quite late, but the drinking and singing and overall jollity showed no signs in slowing down. Arthur took a moment to wander over to the cliff, light up a cigarette and enjoy the view for a moment. In the moonlight, he spotted a horse down by the river. He took out his binoculars for a better look. Grace was walking beside her appaloosa along the riverbank. He lowered the binoculars, frowned, then dashed out of camp. 

No one noticed him leave, as he ran down the hill to catch up to her. He was nearly out of breath by the time he had nearly reached her. 

"You okay there, Mr. Morgan?" she asked when she turned and saw him approaching. 

"Yeah, just-- whew," Arthur bent over to catch his breath. "Just need a moment."

"Any particular reason you're following me?" she asked with a smile. 

"I-- I don't know," he realised. 

"Not enjoying the party?"

"Huh? How did you know?"

"I can see it. And hear it." She pointed up towards the camp. Arthur could see how brightly lit up it was from the river, and he could just hear them singing. 

"Damn," he pinched the bridge of his nose, "Hope there ain't anyone around."

"Well, I am, but if you're afraid of me running off to the law, don't worry. There's no crime in having a good time." Grace winked at him. 

"Heh, I guess I won't go into why we're having a party then," he said. 

"Anyway, don't let me keep you," she turned and continued down the river. 

"Wait, why are you out this late?"

"Just out for a walk."

"And you just happen to pass by our camp, huh?"

"A coincidence."

"You always go for walks this late?"

"Sometimes. Why, are you worried?" 

"Nah, just suspicious."

"Late-night walks are nice. Quiet. Usually don't need to worry about strange men chasing me down." She smiled up at him. 

"Well, can't much stranger than me," he chuckled, "Anyway, I've kept you long enough."

"Good night, Mr. Morgan," she said, "See you around."

He watched her continue on with her horse before returning to camp. He felt stupid for leaving, there was no reason to. He certainly wasn't going to do it again. 


	4. Debt Collecting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's just get this bit done and over with, shall we? Arthur pays a visit to some debtors, including THAT one.

  
The gang had now settled into a routine at Horseshoe Overlook. Arthur regularly rode out to hunt deer and other game for Pearson's stew, which was now tasting better once Miss Grimshaw had gotten her hands on some herbs to secretly throw in. The new woman, Sadie Adler, was still with them, frequently being comforted by Abigail. Sadie mostly kept to herself, seemingly unsure of whether to stay or not. 

They were managing to lie low, apart from the punch-up at the saloon in Valentine and rescuing Sean from bounty hunters, but Arthur was itching to get back out there. Hosea had taken him hunting in the northeast, to take down a gigantic grizzly. Damn thing had taken six shots to the face and still didn't go down. Hosea announced his retirement from such endeavours and Arthur wasn't too keen on repeating the experience himself. He much preferred robbing folks of their money than nearly getting eaten by animals the size of hotels. 

One morning found Arthur being approached by Herr Strauss. 

"Herr Morgan, I have a job for you," the old Austrian man said, opening his ledger book. 

"Let me guess, you been lending money to people who can't afford to pay it back."

"Those with the means do not require loans. And while they are happy to borrow money from me, they are more enthusiastic about paying it back to you."

Arthur sighed. "Alright, who are they?"

"Chick Matthews, farmhand at Guthrie Farm, Mr. Wróbel runs the operation at Painted Sky, badly I might add, and Miss Lilly Millett, a ranch maid at Emerald Ranch." 

"And here was me believing Dutch's bluster about us helping folk," Arthur sighed as he took the list from Strauss. 

"It is legal work, Mr. Morgan. Debtors belong in prison. We are doing them a favour."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll make sure they see it in them terms." 

Arthur rode out first to Emerald Ranch, then to Guthrie Farm to convince Lilly Millett and Chick Matthews to repay their loans. Neither were particularly willing, but in the end some... creative convincing seemed to do the trick. 

Painted Sky was located across the river from Horseshoe Overlook. It seemed a nice spot as Arthur rode up. He forced his way through the door. 

"Knock, knock, Mr. Wróbel," he greeted the startled man. 

Mr. Wróbel spoke in something other than English, backing away from Arthur. 

"Goddamn it. English? You speak English?" Arthur demanded. 

"Me? Uh.. "

"I'm here for money that you borrowed from a German man."

"Ah, German," Mr. Wróbel started speaking in a foreign language again. 

"I don't speak whatever the hell you're saying," Arthur approached him, "I'm here for money. MONEY. That you borrowed from Leopold Strauss." 

"Ah, Leopold Strauss," Mr. Wróbel recognised the name."

"So where is it?"

"Well, no, have nothing," Mr. Wróbel said apologetically, "It's very bad winter."

"We've all had a bad winter pal, so where is it?" Arthur grabbed Mr. Wróbel and threw him to the ground. 

"No, no, nie, nie," Mr. Wróbel pleaded as Arthur started beating him. He spoke in that language again. 

"Nope, still don't understand ya," Arthur said as he punched him again. "Where is it? Gold, dollars, anything!" 

"No, no, I have nothing, but I have this," Mr. Wróbel gestured to a cabinet in the corner, "It is.. valuable, yes? Warszawa."

"So I have your things? Anything in here, or out there?"

"Yes," Mr. Wróbel leaned, exhausted against a small table against the wall as Arthur started looting the place. He found a number of small bits of jewelry, but not quite enough to cover the debt amount. 

Arthur noticed how Mr. Wróbel was guarding the table. "What's that you're hiding there?"

Mr. Wróbel looked confused, spoke again in his language. Arthur shoved him out of the way. 

"Move aside." He opened the drawer to see a small box. He opened it and found a gold wedding ring. Next to the ring box was a platinum pocket watch. Arthur put both in his satchel. 

"No, no, no!" Mr. Wróbel tried to take them back, but Arthur pushed him hard to the floor. He finished searching the rest of the house, satisfied that he had recovered enough to cover the debt.

Arthur exited the door to see Grace riding up on Tuula. She dismounted and greeted Arthur with a smile. 

"Hi, you know Mr. Wrobel too?" 

"In a way, I suppose," he mounted his horse just as Mr. Wrobel stumbled out of the house.

"Panna Grace, Panna Grace!" he shouted. 

"What happened?" she ran to him, taking in his bruised and bloody face. 

"It was him!" he pointed at Arthur. 

"What did you do?" Grace turned to Arthur and demanded angrily. 

"He owed us a debt, I was merely getting what we were owed," said Arthur. He watched as Grace and Mr Wrobel spoke in that funny language. She glared at Arthur and walked angrily over to him. 

"Give me the wedding ring and the watch," she held out her hand. 

"No, he owed us."

"Please, Arthur," she started to reach into her own satchel.

"I said no," he kicked his horse and galloped away. He felt a slight pang of guilt, not because of his treatment of Mr. Wróbel, but because of how angry Grace was with him. He didn't know why he cared. She was nice enough, but clearly didn't understand who he really was.

He arrived back at camp and informed Strauss he had retrieved the debts. He put the money in the box and a few of the valuables of Mr. Wróbel's, but stopped at the wedding ring and watch. He sighed and put them back on his satchel then put his own money in to make up for it. 

A few days later he rode into Valentine. He spotted Tuula outside the saloon. He hitched his horse next to her and went inside. Grace was sitting at the bar talking to another man. Arthur got closer to hear them.

"Come on, you know it'll be good," the man was saying.

"Eat shit, I'm not interested," Grace replied, "Oy, bartender, you going to serve me or what?"

"Just a minute, miss," the bartender went back to conversing with other customers on the end of the bar and pouring them drinks.

"Come on, I know a place with better drinks," the man said, grabbing Grace's arm. In a flash he was flat on the ground with Grace holding a knife to his throat.

"I said no," she said.

"Okay, okay, Jesus," the man said. Grace let him up and he left.

"Please don't assault my customers," said the bartender as Grace returned to the bar.

"How about you serve us both or you're going to have a bigger problem," Arthur said, leaning on the bar next to her.

"Don't you start any more fights in my bar," said the bartender, handing them both a beer and returning to his other customers. 

"Assholes," Grace said under her breath. 

"Who was that man?" Arthur asked.

"I'm not talking to you," said Grace.

"Not following me anymore?" 

"I didn't say that."

"Why are you still following me?"

Grace didn't respond. Arthur noticed she hadn't touched her beer.

"Here," he took out Mr. Wróbel's ring and watch and set them on the table.

"I thought that was his debt?"

"Yeah, well, I paid this part of it myself."

"But, why?" 

"I don't know."

"Arthur Morgan, do you have a conscience?"

"I suppose I do," Arthur smiled a little and took a swig of his beer. "Her name is Grace."

Grace smiled. "Thanks." She put the ring and watch in her satchel. "Here, I was going to give you this for them." She handed Arthur a small stack of bills that would've covered the entire debt. "You know, Mr. Wróbel came over here from Prussia with his wife. They wanted a better life here. Unfortunately she died giving birth to their child and the baby died soon after." 

"So that's why he wanted the ring so badly," said Arthur. 

"And the watch. She gave it to him when she found out she was pregnant."

"Oh." Arthur took another drink. "So how did you meet him?"

"Heard him trying to find help around town a while ago," she finally took a drink of her beer. "Clearly didn't speak English, but I can speak Polish so I helped him. I've been teaching him English."

"Don't know why you bother."

"I like helping people, and I think you do too. I mean, when you're not beating the shit out of them."

"Nah, I'm not like that."

"I think you are." She downed the rest of her beer. "Anyway, I better get this back to Mr. Wróbel. I told him I'd do my best to get the ring and watch back."

"How were you planning on doing that in here?" Arthur finished his beer and followed her out. 

"First I thought about storming your camp, but there's only one of me and even more of your lot, and I thought I'd try to get through the week without getting shot to death. Then I figured you'd probably show up here again, so all I had to was wait." She smiled at him as she mounted her horse. "Anyway, see you around." 

He watched her ride away before mounting his horse and returning to camp. He put the money she had given him in the box, not bothering to keep any of it. The camp could use it more anyway.

"Herr Morgan!" 

Arthur sighed, and turned to Herr Strauss approaching him. "More debtors?"

"Just one. Local farmer, preacher fellow, Thomas Downes."

"Oh, the opinionated do-gooder? I know the one." 

"Good. He owes us a lot of money."

  
_I went to call in a loan, some farmer, local do-gooder. He begged and coughed and sputtered and I beat him half to death. Such is life. Such is the world. His boy looked at me like I was the devil and perhaps for him I was. The whole thing confused me. Maybe that's wrong. The whole thing revolted me/my part. These sad, desperate bastards, their silly expectations of life and then tawdry reality. The unkindness of existence --_

  
Arthur galloped out of the ranch and down to the river where he dismounted, crouched down and washed his face. 

"Was that really necessary?" 

He jumped, startling a flock of ducks nearby. Grace was standing near his horse, a fishing rod over her shoulder and a basket in her other hand. 

"Was what necessary?" he asked, pretending to now know what she was talking about. 

"Beating a sick man for money."

"He owes us."

"But beating him half to death?"

"Bah," Arthur waved her off and turned away. 

"You also beat poor Mr. Wróbel. And presumably a few others." 

"That's just how it works. They borrow money, they need to pay it back. Don't matter about anything else."

"How much is the debt? I'll pay it if it keeps people from getting beaten to shit by you."

"We don't need your money."

"No, you don't need money unless you steal it or beat it out of people." 

Arthur stayed silent. 

"Your way of life is going to catch up to you," she said as she walked away. "You're a good man, Arthur Morgan, you just need to realise it." 

"Well that's where you're wrong!" he called out after her. He stood where he was for a few minutes then mounted his horse and caught up to Grace. 

"Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked her. 

"If you're not a good man, why are you asking me if I need a ride?" she smiled, but didn't look at him. 

"Are you going far?"

"No idea," she shrugged. 

"How do you not know where you're going?" he asked, confused.

"I know exactly where I'm going."

"But you just said you didn't know how far you're going."

"I don't. But I'll know where I need to go when I get there." 

"You could run into anything or anyone out here," he said, "Could be dangerous."

"Could be." 

"You ain't worried?"

"Nope."

"Where's your horse?" 

"She's around."

"Not worried about her?"

"Nope."

"Do you worry about anything?"

"I worry about you."

"Me? Why the hell would you worry about me?"

Grace stopped and looked at him. "Because I do. It's a dangerous life you lead."

"But why me?"

"Why not you?"

"You don't know me," he said. 

"I know you enough." She continued walking down the road. Arthur urged his horse forward to follow. 

"You shouldn't worry about me," he said. 

"Why not?"

"I ain't worth worrying about."

"I think you are." She turned to the river. "Ah, this will do." She put down her basket and fishing rod, then turned to Arthur. "You should probably head back. They're probably wondering how you got on with retrieving the debt." 

Arthur then realised they had stopped a little ways past camp. He watched her bait the hook and cast out. He could hear her humming as he turned his horse to head up. 

After he talked to Strauss, he wandered over to the edge of the cliff. He could just see Grace through the trees, fishing. He took out his journal and sketched a small portrait of her. When he finished, he looked down and saw that she had gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was I correct in my usage of 'Panna' when Wrobel was talking to Grace? I've tried looking it up and there seems to be differing views on it. Please let me know so I can leave it or change it because it's probably going to be one of those things that will bug me until the end of time.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I have most scenes written out already so hopefully I'll be able to update regularly. :)


	5. Socializing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paying a visit to the O'Driscolls, an old flame, and the saloon.

_Colm O'Driscoll slipped through our fingers once more and I saw my own life slip through mine. That gentle buffoon we kidnapped up in the mountains took us to a cabin. We were planning to kill Colm but he had just gone elsewhere. We shot a bunch of his boys and one was about to end my life when Kieran shot him._

_Still, I found quite a shotgun in the cabin, and then Grace found me._

  
Arthur was checking out the shotgun, thinking it needed a good cleaning, when he heard a whistle outside. He cautiously went to the door and peeked around to see Grace mounted on her horse outside.

"What in the hell are you doing here?" he asked angrily, stepping outside. 

"Warning you that the law's on their way," she replied. 

"Aw, shit." 

"Get on, I'll get you to your horse," she moved her horse closer to him. He jumped on behind her and they galloped back to Arthur's horse just as a posse of lawmen showed up. 

"Thanks," he said as he got off her horse. "How did you know?"

"You weren't exactly quiet," she said. "It was only a matter of time before the law showed up." 

"What are you doing out here?"

"Not shooting people." 

Arthur mounted his horse and looked at Grace for a moment. "Do you need a gun? I see you don't have one."

"I don't need one."

"You should be able to defend yourself."

"I'm fine without one." 

"Here, take it," he handed her his pistol. "Never know when damn undesirables are about." 

"You mean like you?" She grinned, then tried to give the gun back. "I told you, I don't need it."

"Just... keep it." He insisted. She sighed and put it in her saddlebag. 

"See you around." She parted ways with him. He felt relieved, knowing that she could be safer. But why did he care? He had better things to be concerned with. 

A few days later in camp, Miss Grimshaw approached him. 

"Mr. Morgan, that Mary Gillis was sniffing around, brought you a letter. I put it by your bed. Oh, and there was also a small parcel." 

"Thanks, Miss Grimshaw."

"Never did like that Mary woman," she sniffed and walked away. Arthur felt his heart somersault in his chest. He hadn't seen Mary in years, not since they had gone their separate ways and before she married another man. What could she want?

He saw the letter on his table along with the parcel. He opened the letter and read it. Mary was staying in Valentine and requested to see him. He sat on his bed, re-reading the letter. He wondered what she wanted. His mind reeled through all the possibilities. 

He folded the letter carefully into his pouch and picked up the parcel. It wasn't postmarked and was simply addressed to Mr. A. Morgan. He cut the string and opened the box to find the pistol he had given Grace inside. There was no note giving an explanation. He felt disappointed and found himself worrying about her. But why should he worry about some woman he barely knew? He took out Mary's letter again. He had better things to think about. 

  
_Saw Mary again. I feel like the luckiest man alive and I feel like a fool. That woman confuses me and plays me for a fiddle like no one else alive. Her little brother Jamie had joined some religious order and needed saving, or so she and the god awful daddy seemed to have thought. I took him home, after a pathetic little squabble._

  
Mary was elated to see her brother back, safe and sound. She thanked Arthur profusely, and seemed like she wanted to hug him but stopped herself. He escorted them both to the train. Before she got on, she turned back to Arthur and tried to speak. 

"Oh," she sighed, "You'll never change. I know that." 

Arthur could only raise his hand in a half-hearted wave as the train pulled out of the station. He watched until it disappeared around the hill. 

"You could change, you know." 

He jumped at the familiar voice. He turned and saw Grace sitting on the back of the bench, cutting into an apple with a knife. 

"Jesus, will you stop following me!" 

"Why won't you change? She's the love of your life, isn't she?" she said, eating an apple slice.

"Ain't your business," he growled. 

"Okay," she jumped down off the bench and stood next to him. "But just so you know, things are probably going to get worse from here. You could change. Have a better life."

"I have people to take care of," he tried to brush her off. 

"I know," she said, "It was just a suggestion."

"Stop following me."

"You should stop following me." She poked him in the chest with the hand holding the half-eaten apple.

"Who are you working for?"

"Nobody."

"Then why are you following me?"

She shrugged. "Same reason you're following me."

"Just what I need," he said to himself, but didn't move. "Why did you send back the gun?"

"I don't need it." She took another bite of her apple. 

"I wanted you to be safer."

"Really? Why do you care if I'm safe or not?"

"I don't know. Just don't want to see you get hurt, is all."

"I won't."

"How do you know?"

"I just do." Grace finished eating the apple and tossed the core off the platform. "See you around, Mr. Morgan," she said, pocketing her knife, and walked into the train station. He hesitated a moment, then followed. She was nowhere to be seen and somehow, he wasn't surprised.

Upon his return to camp, he had just sat down with a bowl of Pearson's stew when Lenny galloped in and stumbled off his horse. 

"They got Micah!" he shouted, as the rest of gang ran to see what was happening. 

"What's going on?" Dutch asked. 

"He's been arrested for murder! They nearly lynched me," Lenny bent over to catch his breath, "They got Micah in the sheriff's in Strawberry, and there's talk of hanging him."

"Here's hoping," said Arthur.

"Arthur!" Dutch frowned at him. 

"What? The fool brought it on himself!"

"You think I can't see past his bluster to the heart inside?" 

Arthur scoffed. "I ain't saving that fool." 

"Well I can't go! My face is already all over West Elizabeth!" Dutch said, "He would do the same for you."

"I don't think he would, but... fine," Arthur gave in, reluctantly, then turned to Lenny, "You okay, Lenny?"

"Yeah, course I am."

"You don't look okay."

"You take that kid into town, Valentine, not Strawberry," Dutch ordered, "Get him drunk. And no crazy business."

"I've given that up!" Arthur insisted. 

"Then you get Micah out of that jail!"

Arthur shook his head. 'No crazy business', but sure, go break Micah out of jail. 

  
_Went off drinking with young Lenny. Thanks to my own peculiar genius for trouble when drunk, the evening did not go quite according to plan, but somehow neither of us got killed or arrested for murder, I mean, we got arrested of course, but not for murder, at least. I don't think it was for murder because they let us out. Whole thing is a bit of a blur._

  
"Arthur! Arthur, you alive?" 

Arthur slowly woke up, his head pounding. He sat up to see they were in jail. 

"Ugh, what did we do?" he asked. 

"I don't know," said Lenny. 

"You pair of degenerates," said the deputy, "there's a fine for drunken violence in this town."

"We didn't do a thing," said Arthur. 

"You're lucky no one got killed."

"Well... I don't remember," Arthur brushed him off. 

"Lucky for you your lady friend already paid your fine," the deputy got up and unlocked the jail cells. "Said you were both idiots but good men."

Lenny and Arthur left the sheriff's, shielding their eyes from the impossibly bright sun. Lenny vomited and leaned against the post. 

"Who do you think paid our fine?" he asked. 

"I don't know," said Arthur, "Certainly wasn't Grimshaw, she'd've let us rot. Karen, maybe?"

"Karen would've joined us," Lenny chuckled, "Anyway, I'm gonna head back."

"Yeah, I'm just going to sit down here and feel sorry for myself." Arthur sat against the post as Lenny rode away. 

"Good morning, sunshine!"

"Oh god, not you," he groaned. 

"Here, drink up." Grace sat next to him, handing him a canteen. Arthur took it and drank the water quickly. It was a welcome relief to his parched throat.

"Thanks," he handed it back to her. 

"So, have a good night?"

He mumbled in response. 

"You know, you're quite the dancer when you're drunk."

"Why am I not surprised you were there?"

"I was sitting there trying to enjoy a nice drink when you two showed up." 

"Yeah, I was trying to get his mind off nearly being lynched." 

"I'd say you succeeded."

"I don't remember much."

"Well, to sum up, there was shouting, dancing, singing, a bit of a punch-up, vomit, and then you tried to outrun the law." 

"Ugghhh." 

"Yep, well I best be heading off," she patted his shoulder then stood up. 

"Wait, hold on," Arthur stood up as well, staggering as he regained his balance, "Was it you who paid our fine?"

"Yeah, figured you'd be feeling awful enough this morning without having to worry about getting out of jail." 

"Thanks." 

"Any time. See you around, Mr. Morgan." 

Arthur watched her mount up on her horse and trot down the road. He couldn't understand it. Why was she always around? And why did she even bother to help him and Lenny out? But he had other things to worry about now. 

Goddamn Micah. Arthur wondered if he could take his time getting to Strawberry and, whoops, got there too late to save that fool from being hanged. He sighed, and knew that as much as he wanted to, he couldn't do it. Not when Dutch was depending on him. 


	6. Another Quiet Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur goes drinking again and surprise! He gets into a wee bit of trouble.

Arthur broke Micah out of jail. The whole thing had gone wrong and now he was a wanted man. Again. He always had a bad feeling about Micah, ever since they picked him up. He should've just let him hang, but then Dutch would blame him and that's the last thing he needed right now. 

He paused at the riverbank, not wanting to go back to camp right away. He dismounted and washed his hands and face in the river. 

"Hello, Mr. Morgan." 

He jumped and nearly fell into the river. He turned and saw Grace on her appaloosa on the riverbank. 

"Will you stop doing that?" He picked up his hat from the water, knocking it against his leg to try to dry it off. 

"Probably not." She grinned at him. "You let your guard down too much. It's dangerous out here, you said so yourself." 

"Yeah, but I can usually hear horses coming up behind me."

"Clearly not." 

"What are you doing here?"

"On my way to Valentine since Strawberry is on lockdown."

"Oh."

"Something about a jail break and a massacre. Wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you?"

"No," Arthur sighed. "Yes." No point in trying to lie to her. "But it wasn't supposed to go down like that." 

"What did you think was going to happen, blowing open the jail like that?"

"Goddamn Micah," he swore to himself. "We were supposed to get out but he had to go back for his damn guns." 

"And instead of fleeing yourself, you stayed with him." 

"I had to."

"No you didn't. You could've escaped, left him to his own fate." 

"He would've died."

"Didn't know you cared so much about him. I thought he was an asshole, myself." 

"You've met Micah?" Arthur raised his eyebrows, surprised. 

"His reputation precedes him." 

"Well I don't care much about him."

"Yet you killed all those men trying to save him."

"Wasn't for me I saved him."

"Of course." She turned her horse. "But one day you might need to decide whether or not to continue being someone else's pawn. See you around, Mr. Morgan." 

"I ain't nobody's pawn!" he shouted after her as she trotted up the river. He was confused by her since she seemed to know more than she let on, yet he was fixated. 

Arthur needed a drink. 

He went to the saloon in Valentine, much to the bartender's chagrin. The more he thought of the crap Micah caused, the more he drank. The bartender tried cutting him off a couple times, but Arthur threatened to turn the place upside down if he didn't. No one else was willing to take Arthur on after that fight he had with Tommy. 

"Sir, I think you've had enough tonight," said the bartender. 

"Why don' you shut up?" Arthur slurred, "Why is my glasses empty?"

"Why don't you go sleep it off, huh?" said another patron. 

"Why don' you shove off?" Arthur pushed him. The man fell to the floor then got up angry. 

"Is that how you want to play it?" the man advanced on Arthur and punched him. Arthur fought back while someone ran for the sheriff's. He had just knocked out the man, ready to take on another, when a couple of lawmen entered the bar. 

"Okay, how about you come outside with us," one of them said. 

"Never!" Arthur raised his fists, ready for another fight. 

"THERE YOU ARE!" a familiar woman came in, pushing past the lawmen. 

"Heeyyy, I know you!" Arthur pointed at her. "You're purdy."

"You know him, ma'am?" the deputy asked her. 

"Unfortunately," said Grace, now crying loudly, "He's my husband, and he left me to look after our thirteen children so he could drink here and... and..." 

"Wait, what shildren?" Arthur was confused. He didn't remember any of this, but then he was pretty drunk right now. 

"It's okay, ma'am," said the deputy. 

"I had to leave young Lenny in charge and my horse has just about collapsed on the way here because she pulls the plow all day and not to mention Granny's lumbago problem," Grace sobbed. 

"Wha-, I don' remember any of this," said Arthur. 

"SEE WHAT I HAVE TO DEAL WITH?" Grace cried loudly into the deputy's shoulder who awkwardly patted her on the back as everyone in the saloon stared. 

"Um, do you want to grab a room over at the hotel so your husband can sleep it off? Normally I'd make fellas sleep it off in jail, but I guess I can make an exception." 

"I'd be ever so grateful," Grace sniffled, "I think ol' Buttercup needs a rest."

"Of course, ma'am," said the deputy before turning to Arthur. "Sir, if you would go with your wife?" 

Arthur stumbled after them out of the saloon, falling over in the muddy road. The other lawman helped him up and walked with him to the hotel. 

"Sir, a room for this couple, oh, and a bath," the deputy said to the clerk. 

"Oh, um, I'm not sure about the bath," Grace stammered. 

"Surely you'd rather him not be so dirty?"

"Um, I suppose not," she said. 

They helped Arthur into the bath room followed by Grace. She thanked them as they left and closed the door. 

"Damn it," she said to herself, wiping her face of the tears she had forced herself to make. 

"What'sh happening?" asked Arthur.

"You are having a bath," sighed Grace, removing her coat. 

"Why?"

"Because you look like you rolled in pig shit."

"Hahaha, I know a pig, his name ish Micah," Arthur laughed. 

"Jesus christ," Grace pinched the bridge of her nose, "I should've told them to make you sleep it off in jail."

"I've been in jail, with mah boy Lenny," Arthur said as Grace removed his coat and hung it up. "We got in trouble."

"Yes, you're always getting in trouble when you drink," she said. "Can you manage to undress yourself and get into the bath?"

"I thought you's my wife," Arthur slurred. 

"Jesus," Grace put her hands on her hips. "I can't wait until you remember this tomorrow." She helped him undress and get into the bath. While he sat there, she tried to get as much mud and dirt off his clothes as she could. 

"Why is nothing happening?" he asked, poking at some of the soap bubbles. 

"You have to wash yourself," Grace said sternly. 

"Don' wanna."

"Tough. Do it."

Arthur groaned but drunkenly started washing himself while Grace just shook her head, wondering what she got herself into. When he finished, she handed him a towel then turned away as he got out. She handed him his clothes, having to assist a little. Then she grabbed her own coat and helped him into a room across the hall. 

"Is this our house?" asked Arthur. 

"How much did you drink tonight?" she asked as he fell to the floor. 

"All of it," he laughed. 

"Well I'm going to bed," she said, "You are sleeping on the floor."

"Haha, just like jail," he said. 

"Yep, so you'll feel right at home."

  
Arthur woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and feeling like he was about to get sick. He groaned as he sat up, covering his eyes from the light. His stomach lurched and he vomited into a bucket that suddenly appeared in front of him. When he finished, someone handed him a small towel. He wiped his mouth with it, then looked up to see who gave it to him. 

"Ugh, how did you get in here?" he asked, handing Grace the towel. 

"Just wait, it'll come to you," she said, handing him a glass of water. She left the room with the bucket and towel while Arthur drank the water. He thought hard, trying to remember the night before. He remembered getting a couple of drinks at the saloon, but then it got blurry after that. But after a few minutes, he started to remember. He nearly started another fight but was almost arrested. Then Grace showed up, there was something about children, he fell in the mud, then he had a bath... 

Oh. 

Damn. He quickly stood up, only to lose his balance and fall onto the bed just as Grace came back in. 

"Grace, I'm so sorry," he said, sitting up. 

"For what?"

"For... you know."

"Be specific."

"For being a damn fool."

"No apologies for your poor, dear wife and thirteen children?" she smirked. 

"Jesus, you actually said that, didn't you?"

"Oh yes. Everyone thinks you're scum now."

"Well, they ain't wrong," he put his head in his hands. "And you were there when I had a bath?"

"Yep. Don't worry, I didn't see anything I wasn't supposed to."

"Oh." 

"So do you wanna get out of here?" 

"Yeah," he stood up and Grace handed him his hat and coat. He followed Grace out of the room, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Tuula and his own horse were hitched outside. 

"Well, I'll see you around," she said, mounting Tuula. 

"Hey, wait," Arthur mounted his horse, "Um, thanks."

"Any time, Mr. Morgan." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have had a few drinks myself when I wrote this ages ago, but it amuses me so. Thanks for reading!


	7. A Question for the Ages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur finds out a bit about Grace's past.

_Met a lady scientist, Deborah something or other. Seemed to be more mad than sane, but I don't have much frame of reference for scientists. Wanted me to see if I could help her find dinosaur bones and send her the details. Maybe._

Arthur was just finishing up his sketch of the large pelvic bone he had helped Deborah McGuinness load into her wagon when he heard hoof beats approach.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Morgan." 

"You still following me?" he looked up at Grace on her horse. 

"Nah, I was just passing by and saw you up here," she smiled at him. "Digging for buried treasure?" she looked over at the large hole. 

"Nah, some woman is looking for dinosaur bones."

"Fascinating!" Grace dismounted and walked over to the hole. "Find any?"

"Yeah, this one," he showed her his sketch. "It was huge."

"Wow, I wonder what kind it is." 

"Said it could walk, fly, and swim," Arthur closed his journal and put it back in his satchel. 

"Huh, hard to tell from just those bones." 

"Wants me to send her locations of any others if I find any." 

"I'll keep an eye out too," she said, "that is, when I'm not busy following you." She winked at him and mounted up again. "I'm no stranger to digging up old bones."

"What, you go grave robbing in your spare time?" Arthur joked as he mounted his horse. 

"Nah, but I was helping with an expedition up in Canada some years back and we found some dinosaur bones. Loads of them. They thought they might be a new species." 

"'Some years back'? You must've been a child," Arthur frowned. 

"Eh, I'm older than you think," she replied. 

"How old are you?"

"Don't you know it's rude to ask a lady her age?" 

"Didn't know you were a lady," Arthur joked.

"I know, it's debatable sometimes, isn't it?" she laughed. "That reminds me, I should write Mr. Tyrell and see if they've found anything else. It really was a most interesting time." 

They rode together along the road in silence. Arthur kept looking over at her, wondering about her actual age. He had always figured she was about twenty, or barely older than Mary-Beth or Tilly. She looked fairly young.

"You trying to work out how old I am?" Grace smirked. 

"No, just... you're a very curious woman."

"Indeed I am, and you are a very strange man."

"Well, I guess you ain't wrong there." They rode a bit longer before he spoke again. "So, where do you find these dinosaur bones anyway?"

"I'd check dried up river beds and river banks, or anywhere with visible bedrock. But really, they could be anywhere." 

"Huh. How do you know they're dinosaurs and not just other animals?"

"You ever seen an animal that could have a pelvis the size of the one you drew?"

"Good point."

"Besides, they'll look a lot older. If the bones were, say, those of a bear or a deer, they'll probably look cleaner, I suppose. They wouldn't have been buried in the ground for millions of years."

"Millions of years? Jesus."

"Mmhm," she halted Tuula, "Well, I have things to do so I'll leave you here."

"What sort of things?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," she smiled at him, "See you around, Mr. Morgan." She clicked her tongue and Tuula broke into a canter away from Arthur. 

He turned and realised he was only feet away from the path into Horseshoe Overlook. He shook his head and headed into camp. He had barely dismounted when Abigail approached. 

"Is it John again?" he asked. 

"No, it's Jack, would you do something with him? You know his own father is useless." 

"Fine, alright," Arthur sighed and went to find the young boy. 

  
_Took young Jack fishing as a favor to Abigail. As we fished, a couple of Pinkerton agents appeared - Milton was one of them. I forget the other fella's name, they knew all about me. That's a new turn of events. Apparently there's five thousand on my head alone. After Blackwater, or maybe before, it seems we may be in real trouble. I just don't know._

_Dutch don't seem too worried but I am beginning to have some doubts to this wisdom in his indifference._

  
"I'm going to ride into town, see if there are any more Pinkertons about," Arthur informed Dutch. 

"Keep your nose clean, we don't want any following you," Dutch said as he sat back down to read his book. 

Arthur borrowed one of the wagon horses so his own wouldn't be recognised. As he rode into Valentine, he spotted Tuula hitched outside the train station. He hitched his horse next to the appaloosa. Maybe Grace has seen something. 

He had barely opened the door when he quickly backed out. Milton and the other one, Ross, he thought, was already speaking to her. He leaned close to the window to listen. 

"So you're saying, Miss---?" 

"Just call me Grace." 

"Miss Grace. You're saying you know where they're located?"

"Oh yes."

"Excellent, now if you could tell us... Ross, write this down." 

Arthur couldn't believe what he was hearing. She had betrayed them. She had betrayed _him_. After all this time he thought she was decent. Goddamn it, how could he have been so stupid? But now he was going to have to take care of the situation. Of her. He felt his heart sink, knowing what he would need to do.

"Sure, but you better hurry," Grace was saying, "They never stay in one place for too long."

"We know. The location, please."

"Cotorra Springs, in the East Grizzlies."

Arthur perked up. So she wasn't talking about them after all. 

"Are you sure it's them?"

"Mr. Milton, I do believe I can recognize Dutch van der Linde and his gang when I see them, what with all of their wanted posters all over the place." 

"We had word they were in this area."

"Obviously erroneous information."

"We saw one of his best known associates, Arthur Morgan, by the river down the way."

"Good fishing spots on that river. Worth the trip."

"Even with a young boy?" 

"When better to start teaching the young how to fish?" 

"Hmm." 

"Sir, how can we trust her?"

"You don't have to trust me, but I suppose if you're not all that bothered on capturing Mr. van der Linde..." 

"We'll look into it. Thank you, Miss."

"Any time." 

Arthur stood to the side of the door, his head down, as Milton and Ross passed by arguing. 

"Are we really going up there to search?"

"We have no other leads."

"We should've followed Arthur Morgan and that kid back to his camp."

"Yes, but now we have someone who's been spotted conversing with Mr. Morgan and isn't a part of the gang. There seems to be no doubt he's taken her into his confidence." 

They walked away further into town. Arthur slipped into the train station and saw Grace sitting on a bench, reading a book. 

"Ratting us out?" he said quietly, sitting next to her. 

"Yep. Told them you're up at Cotorra Springs." she said without looking up from her book. "You know how much I'd get if they catch all of you? Wanna split it?"

"Funny," he said. "Never had you as the lying type."

"I'm a master at it."

"How many times have you lied to me?"

"Exactly zero. I lie when I need to." She closed her book and looked over at him. "And I never need to lie to you, Mr. Morgan." 

"You lied about how old you are," he pointed out. 

"No, I never told you how old I am," she grinned, "There's a difference between not saying something and straight lying."

"So how old are you?"

"Old enough," she stood, "If I were you, I'd spend a few days out of town. Not sure how long those fellas will be here. I'll see you around."

  
Arthur spent the next few days in camp, feeling a bit more restful that Grace had misled the Pinkertons. But he couldn't understand why she would do such a thing. Surely she'd want to take advantage of the bounty money, it must be an absolute fortune for all of them. 

"Mr. Morgan," Miss Grimshaw approached him, "Mr. Matthews asked me to tell you to meet him over at Emerald Ranch. And clean yourself up a bit! You're a mess."

"Thanks, Miss Grimshaw," Arthur ran his hand across his scruffy face. He decided not to shave, just to spite her a bit. 

  
_Hosea and I went robbing, just like in the old days. A father and son pair of clowns at some farm house. Stole a wagon, sold it to some rat Hosea had met at Emerald Ranch. What goes on there, I cannot tell, but this little purchaser of stolen goods had us go rob his own family. Even by my standards, that was low, but the father and son we robbed was proof that even God makes mistakes sometimes._  


"I'm going back to camp," said Hosea, mounting his horse. "Why don't you see if there's anything else of interest around here?"

"Sure," Arthur waved as Hosea trotted off. Arthur mounted his horse and headed slowly in the opposite direction. He wasn't sure where he was going to go. That is, until he spotted the blue roan appaloosa on a small grassy hill across from the ranch. Grace was painting at a small easel beside her horse. 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Morgan," she greeted him as he approached. 

"Why is it everywhere I go, you're around?" he dismounted. 

"I could say the same for you," she said, not looking away from her painting. Arthur looked to see she was painting a landscape of Emerald Ranch. 

"You're very good," he said, admiring her work. 

"Thanks," she mixed a bit of the white and blue paints in her palette with her brush and started to add details in the sky, "I learned to paint in France, nice town called Arles."

"France? Alone?"

"At first. Met a nice man there, we became close, but he was battling his own personal demons. Another painter fella and I tried to help him, but in the end, he ended his own life." She paused. "A damn shame. He had such an eye for the world. His use of colour was something else, I thought. Always wondered what happened to his paintings. They were beautiful."

"Huh. So was that before or after you were digging up dinosaurs in Canada?" 

"After."

"Quite the world traveler, ain't you?"

"There's a lot to see out there. You should try it sometime. I mean, when you're not stealing stagecoaches."

"How did you know about that?"

"I've been sitting here painting the ranch for the past while. Stagecoaches don't just drive themselves into the barn." 

"Oh." 

"Better be careful, Mr. Morgan. Don't want to get caught."

"You gonna turn us in?"

"Never," she smiled up at him, "Anyway, don't let me keep you." She turned back to her painting. 

Arthur didn't move, continuing to watch her paint for a few more minutes. He stepped away to take out his journal and drew a quick sketch of Grace. 

"Do you paint, Mr. Morgan?" she asked, not looking away from her work. 

"Me? Nah."

"I'd love to see more of your drawings sometime."

"Nah, they're not that important."

"They must be if you're taking the time to do it."

"I guess."

Grace added a few touches to her painting and stepped back, analyzing it. She seemed satisfied with it and set her palette and brush on the ground. She removed the canvas and folded it within the easel to guard the wet paint. 

"You still here?" she turned to Arthur who was still watching her. 

"Who are you, really?"

"Okay, you got me. I'm actually Abraham Lincoln." She grinned at Arthur who laughed. "What do you want to know?"

"Where are you from?"

"New York."

"Do you even have a last name? I heard you tell those Pinkertons to just call you Grace."

"It's Bellerose," she smiled, "They didn't need to know that." 

"How old are you?"

"You really are persistent," she picked up her easel and hung it off the back of her saddle. "I am 120 years old," she said dramatically.

"Very funny. Fine, don't tell me."

"Fine, don't believe me," she tittered, "Anyway, anything else you want to know?"

"Why are you following me?"

"I think you'll find that I was here first and you followed me," she smirked as she mounted her horse. "Anyway, see you around, Mr. Morgan." She cantered away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A most curious woman indeed.


	8. Gunslingers and Ice Skating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur finds Grace ice skating in the mountains. 
> 
> Featuring a special appearance of the 'There Was Only One Bed' trope.

Things were quiet in camp, so Arthur decided to go find those gunslingers for that book about Calloway. 

_Guess Billy Midnight never escaped his past. Guy was deranged about shooting some fella in the back or in their sleep or something else very sensible in my opinion. Anyway, guilt had consumed him, so like a real proper gentleman, he tried to kill me._

_Met Emmet Granger. I cannot think of a single man I have enjoyed seeing dead more than this bastard. Pig shit and hatred and he still threw a knife at me._

_Found Flaco Hernandez for that silly book. Killed him. Bastard jumped out of the way but I still got him. Didn't seem like the type I was going to befriend anyway._

  
Arthur slowly made his way around the mountain, trying to find a spot to camp before dusk fell. As he and his horse made their way down a steep hill to a frozen lake, he could see someone skating on it. It was a woman and he was pretty sure he knew who it was. 

When he reached the edge of the lake, Grace skated towards him. She was wearing a long dark blue wool skirt with a long black coat over it, as well as a red knitted hat and scarf. 

"I knew you were following me," she smiled at him. 

"What are you doing out here alone?" 

"Skating. I got this cigarette card for an ice skater and heard he had lived out here."

"So where is this fella?"

"Go have a look," she pointed over towards a small cabin on the other side of the lake. Arthur rode over with Grace following on the lake. He dismounted, hitched his horse next to Tuula, and went up to the door. 

"Not there," she said, "Over there." She pointed toward an opened coffin near a defaced grave marker. 

"Jesus," Arthur walked over and read the grave marker. "'No Ice in Hell'. Damn, who did this guy piss off?"

Grace shrugged. 

"Hold on, are you wearing his ice skates?" he asked, his eyes widening.

"No other skates around," she said, lifting her skirt a bit to show off the skates. "They're a bit big on me, had to stuff the toes to make them fit. But it's fun. Wanna have a go?"

"Nah," he replied. 

"I wonder where I can buy my own," Grace said, trying to skate backward but tripped and fell. 

"You okay?" Arthur rushed over to her, sliding carefully on the ice and helping her up. 

"I am, my behind isn't," she said, rubbing her rear. "Oo, look!" She pointed across the lake where a grizzly was sniffing along the edge. Arthur quickly went to his horse and took out his rifle. Grace followed in the snow. "Don't, it's not bothering us." She whispered. 

Arthur watched the bear with his rifle ready while Grace changed out of the skates into her boots. She stood next to him and they watched as the bear ambled out onto the ice, still sniffing about. They heard a howl and a small pack of wolves made their way onto the ice behind the bear. The bear stood up and roared at them as the wolves crouched and surrounded it. All at once the wolves attacked. The bear swiped his paw at one, hitting it in the face and killing it instantly. Another wolf leapt on the bear's back, grabbing hold with its teeth. Another had managed to latch onto the bear's throat. 

The grizzly finally escaped the wolves, attacking and killing them. But the bear itself was having trouble staying upright. It swayed about on the ice before falling. Grace and Arthur could see it breathing heavily. Grace made a move towards the ice, but Arthur pulled her back. 

"What are you doing?" 

"I just want a closer look," she said, wrenching her arm out of his grip. She skid slowly across the ice towards the bear, keeping her distance before stopping. Arthur followed carefully. Grace moved closer to the bear, talking to it but Arthur couldn't hear what she saying. She knelt down by its head, petting it gently. 

"Jesus, that thing could kill you!" Arthur shouted. 

"It's hurt badly," she replied. "It's bleeding out." Arthur got closer and noticed the pool of blood forming beneath the bear. The wolf had probably severed a major artery. The bear groaned in pain. "Can you...?"

Arthur nodded. Grace pet the bear again and stood back before Arthur shot it dead. 

"Poor things," she said. "They were all just trying to survive." 

"Just like the rest of us," said Arthur. 

"Kill or be killed," she said, "Or in this case, kill and be killed anyway." She looked down at the bear's corpse sadly. "I suppose you could skin it, get some money for its pelt or something. Could cook up the meat, too, or save it for your family." 

Arthur nodded, took out his knife and got to work. Grace watched, pulling her coat tighter around herself as the wind blew harder. 

"It's getting dark, we need to find a place for the night," he said as he finished and rolled up the bear's pelt. 

"The cabin is still useful," she said, "Just need some more wood to keep the fire going." They returned to the cabin and Grace removed a small axe from her saddlebag. 

"Here, I'll do it," said Arthur, after he had placed the bear's pelt on his own horse. She handed him the axe. 

"I'll go make the place a bit more cozy." She led Tuula back to the cabin. 

Arthur chopped branches off trees for the next hour. The trunks were too frozen and the axe was too small to try to cut down a whole tree. When he figured he had enough, he brought the branches back to the cabin. Grace had thrown a blanket over each of their horses outside. Inside, she was deboning a large fish on the table. 

"That'll do nicely," she said when he walked in. 

"Where did you get the fish?" he asked, placing some of the branches in the stove, poking at the fire to keep it going.

"Caught it at Lake Isabella, other side of the mountain," she said. "Here, have a rest, you earned it." She stood up, offering her chair. He sat down and quietly watched her cook up the fish on the stove. "Here you are." She handed him the fish on a plate, then sat down with hers. 

"So who is this guy? The one who lived here?" Arthur asked. 

"Some sort of big ice skater. Had an accident some time ago, maybe that's how he lost his leg? Maybe he died because he couldn't skate anymore."

"Sounds like a dumb reason to die."

"Sometimes people can be so heartbroken over the loss of someone or something they loved. I mean, what would you do if you suddenly couldn't go around shooting and robbing people?"

"That probably means I'm dead already," he joked.

"Exactly." She smiled at him. "So what brought you all the way out here?"

"Remember that Calloway clown? Came out here to find Flaco Hernandez."

"How did that go?"

"Well he's dead now."

"Didn't want to talk, I suppose? Any actual stories about Calloway?"

"Nope. No one wants to talk, except for that Granger fella and he just wanted to talk about himself."

"I bet those were some pleasant stories."

"Oh yeah. Awful man." He ate a few bites before speaking again. "There's only Black Belle left. Want to go meet her with me? She might not try to shoot two of us."

"Bet she would, and yes, I'll go with you. When?"

"Not sure yet. Have some other things still to do," Arthur took out the photo of Black Belle from his satchel. "But according to this, she's somewhere near Bluewater Marsh."

"Ah, the swamps," Grace wrinkled her nose. "I try to avoid going there as much as possible."

"We sleeping here?"

"I am, but you don't have to sleep if you don't want to," she finished up her fish. "There's only one bed, though." She looked over to the bunk bed. "The top bunk isn't sturdy anymore. Besides, it'd be warmer if we shared."

"I don't know," Arthur hesitated. 

"Well, I'm taking the bed," she stood, picking up a blanket off the back of her chair, "You decide where you're going to sleep." She pulled her coat around herself tighter then crawled onto the bottom bunk, wrapping the blanket around herself. 

Arthur sat there for a few minutes before deciding to just sleep on the floor beside the stove. Grace had already brought in his bedroll from his horse and he rolled it out by the stove. Before lying down, he looked over at her. He could see her shivering, even under the thick blanket. He sighed, picked up his bedroll and went over to the bed. 

"Hey, move over," he poked her in the shoulder. She looked up at him and moved closer to the wall. He lay next to her, throwing the bedroll over both of them. The bed creaked as he turned to face her. 

"Much better," she said quietly, turning to face him. 

"Don't usually sleep this close to anyone," he said. 

"Neither do I, but it's too cold to sleep seperately." She paused. "Do you snore?"

"Probably. Do you?"

"Probably," she smiled at him. "Good night, Arthur."

"Good night, Grace."

She closed her eyes and was soon fast asleep. Arthur stayed awake, watching her. He hadn't seen her face this close before. Even in the dim light of the oil lamp still lit on the table, he could see the light freckles across her pale nose. He could also see a strange scar on her right temple, barely covered by her dark hair and hat. As he was wondering how she got it, he fell asleep. 

The following morning, Arthur woke up to find himself alone. He quickly sat up, hitting his head on the top bunk. He looked around but didn't see Grace. The fire in the stove was still going strong like it had been stoked not too long ago. He then realised the blanket she had wrapped around herself was draped over him. He rushed outside where he bumped into Grace on the doorstep and they both fell through the rotten railing face first into the snow. 

"Well, good morning to you too," she sat up, brushing the snow off her face.

"Sorry, I thought you left," he said, standing and helping her up.

"Clearly not," she brushed more snow off her front. 

"What were you doing out here?" he brushed snow off himself.

"Feeding the horses," she replied, "Didn't realise I needed permission to do so."

"Nah, just.. wasn't sure if you were going to disappear on me again."

"Why, you not sick of me yet?"

"Only sometimes."

"I should try harder then," she grinned, "So you wanna get out of here?"

Arthur nodded and helped her put out the fire in the stove and pack up the blanket and bedroll. She pet his horse as he reattached his bedroll to his saddle. 

"What's your horse's name? I don't think I've asked."

"This is Smokey," he patted his horse on the rump, "Not a very good name, but I couldn't come up with anything better when I got 'im."

"I think it's a perfect name, seeing as he's a smokey grey and all," Grace said. 

"So how did you come up with Tuula for your horse?" he asked as he mounted up. 

"It's from a word that means 'wind' in Finnish," she replied, mounting her horse, "And she is very fast."

"Finnish? You speak that language too?" Arthur looked at her, impressed. 

"A little."

"Jesus. So how the hell did you jump across that ravine? Back when we robbed that Cornwall train." They rode around the frozen lake to the trail leading out of the mountains. 

"She's a very good jumper. I actually learned that the hard way when we were trying to escape a pack of wolves. Nearly fell out of the saddle, I wasn't prepared for such a jump."

"Where'd you get her anyway?"

"In the wild. Took me about five months to find her." 

"Five months? What, five months of tracking her down?"

"Nope, five months to find the perfect horse. Plenty of wild horses out there, but they're not all suited for my needs."

"What needs are those?"

"Following strange men," she grinned over at Arthur who laughed. 

"So Tuula's the perfect horse for following me, is that it?" 

"Nah, I've had her long before I met you."

"Well, I know that. We only actually met, what, a few weeks ago?"

"Actually, I sort of met you in Blackwater."

"What?" Arthur looked at her, frowning. Blackwater? He would have remembered meeting her. "When was that?"

"It was only briefly. You were buying your journal, I think. I had an armful of paints and sketchbooks which I ended up dropping and you helped me pick them up."

Arthur thought back to when he had bought his journal. That felt like so long ago now. He did remember helping a young woman pick up her books while another man told her off for dropping them. 

"Your husband ain't gonna be so pleased to know you're dropping his supplies, sweetheart," the man had said. 

"I don't have a husband, thank you," Grace had replied coolly as she and Arthur set the paints and books on the counter. She had thanked Arthur and he was about to leave when the man spoke rudely to her again. 

"Then how can you afford such expensive paints? Can't imagine a silly thing like you turning tricks."

Arthur had been about to intervene when she turned to the man. "That's because I robbed and killed a silly man like you for his money, would you care to find out if that's true or not?"

Arthur had smirked and left, figuring she would be fine. 

"Wait, you didn't actually rob and kill a man for his money, did you?" Arthur asked her as they had finally rode out of the snow. 

"Nah, I have never done such a thing, but that man didn't know that. Anyway, I think I'm going to head this way," she said as they came to a fork in the road, "I'll see you around." 

Arthur waved goodbye as she headed west along the road while he turned to head east and go back to camp. He wondered along the way what would have happened if he had started talking to her then. He also wondered why, if she had been in Blackwater, she ended up in the mountains at the same time as them. And exactly why was she following him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Grace, what's your deal? What's with your obsession with Arthur? 
> 
> Stay tuned and thanks for reading!


	9. Clemens Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang move to Clemens Point after a shootout in Valentine. Arthur continues to wonder why the hell Grace is always around, but still enjoys a bit of a swim with her.

_More problems have befallen us. More running._

_Leviticus Cornwall. The oil, sugar, rail and greed merchant whom we robbed a while back had us ambushed in Valentine. Seems he has added to the price on our heads. We shot our way out of town and narrowly escaped with our lives._

  
Arthur rode out while the gang packed up camp to see if any Pinkertons or law enforcement were around. Everything was getting messier. He turned his horse down to the river where he saw Grace and Tuula in the water. Grace had her pant legs rolled up above her knees and was splashing her horse as Tuula was pawing at the water, splashing her back. He rode down to them. 

"Can't stay out of trouble, can you, Mr. Morgan?" she called out, waving. 

"I don't know what you mean," Arthur said, stopping his horse by the river. Grace waded out with Tuula following. 

"Oh, I see, so it wasn't you who shot up the town?"

Arthur paused. "No." 

"Yeah, okay," she raised her eyebrows, clearly not believing him. She walked across the sand to her socks and boots by some boulders. She sat on a boulder, wiped the sand off the bottom of her feet, and stretched her legs out. Arthur had followed and she looked up at him. "Do you need something?"

"I didn't mean for it happen," he admitted. 

"I'm sure you didn't. So what happened?"

"It was the train robbery, back in the mountains. The fella we robbed found us in town."

"So he wanted justice."

"Yeah."

"He didn't quite get it, I see." 

"No, we all survived."

"Except for all those men you shot dead." 

"They were shooting at us!" 

"They were doing what they had to do."

"So were we!"

"Of course." 

"We're not all bad, you know." 

"No, but neither are most of the people you've killed." 

Arthur didn't say anything. He supposed she was right. In a way. 

"So tell me, Arthur Morgan," she leaned forwards towards him, "how many lives have you taken? How many families have you torn apart by your bloodthirst? And what about that other train you robbed? How many of those people you've rendered helpless because now they can't pay for things they need?"

"Bah, you wouldn't understand."

"No, I don't. But feel free to explain it to me."

"I've had enough of this," he turned his horse and galloped away. She didn't understand what it was like. She's never had to kill or steal just to keep surviving, to live free, as Dutch always said. And yet, there she was, living just as free as can be without stealing or killing.

When he arrived back at camp, he wondered if he would see her again. How could she want anything to do with him after everything he's done? Why did he even care?

_After this, we fled the country and headed even further south and east. Charles and I saved a family of Germans who were in the process of getting themselves killed._

  
Arthur and Charles checked the camp near Dewberry Creek, which seemed empty, like it had recently been abandoned. 

"Where is everyone?" asked Charles. Before Arthur could reply, they heard a noise from a nearby wagon. He put his finger to his lips and slowly walked over. He removed a crate and saw a woman aiming a shotgun at him. Two children flanked her, looking terrified. 

"It's okay," Charles spoke gently, putting his gun away. He and Arthur kept their hands up as the woman slowly emerged from her hiding spot, closely followed by her two children. "Are you okay?" Charles asked. She kept her gun aimed at them. 

"He said, are you okay?" Arthur said. 

"Sprechen Sie Deutsch?" the woman asked. "Uh, German?"

"Uh, no," he replied. What is with people not speaking English? "Now, go on, get out of here." The woman and children didn't move. "Go, we need the land, get the hell outta here!

"They took our father!" the young girl said, pointing down the trail. 

"Who?" asked Charles. 

"Men. Last night." The girl started to cry. 

"Where?"

"Ain't no business of ours," Arthur protested. 

"What's going on?" Grace walked up as the woman whirled around, aiming her gun at her. "Whoa, it's okay." Grace put her hands up. 

"Now what the hell are you doing here?" Arthur asked her angrily. 

"Saw your horse alone, wondered where you were," she replied, but looking at the German woman with the gun. "Um. Everything okay?"

"Their father was taken," Charles said, "We're going to find him."

Arthur sighed, annoyed. "Like I said, it ain't our business. We don't even speak their language."

"What do you speak?" Grace asked the woman. 

"Deutsche, uh, German," the woman replied nervously. 

Grace nodded then started speaking, presumably, in German to her. The woman looked relieved and talked quickly back. Grace pointed to Arthur and Charles and said something. 

"Danke, thank you!" she cried. 

"Wait, what did you just tell her?" demanded Arthur. 

"I said you'd try to find her husband," Grace stated.

"Now, hold on--"

"And if you don't, then I will, but I think he'd have a better chance if you two go," Grace said.

Charles nodded in agreement. "Let's go."

"Goddamn it," Arthur said under his breath as Charles retrieved their horses. They mounted up and followed the trail out. 

"So, who is that?" Charles asked. 

"Just a girl I met," said Arthur, "Or rather, she keeps meeting me. It's getting irritating." 

"I think I've seen her before."

"You have?"

"I was out hunting and found a bunch of bison carcasses, just shot and left for dead. Tracked down the shooters to their camp and she was already there, yelling at them."

"What the hell was she trying to do?"

"Same thing I was, find out who shot those bison. She stuck a knife in one of their hands and demanded to know who hired them. Told her the name of someone in Saint Denis, and she rode off."

"Yeah, sounds like something she'd probably do."

"So who is she?"

"Her name is Grace and she has a nasty habit of showing up when I least expect it."

"Oh. Well, so long as she doesn't find out too much about us."

"Hah, she probably knows more about us than we know about us," Arthur said sarcastically. 

"Hm, I hope that won't be a problem."

"Nah, I don't think it will," Arthur paused. "She's a good person."

"You said she was irritating."

"She's good and irritating."

They tracked the German man to a hideout within some trees on the river. After taking out the kidnappers, Charles suggested they move camp here instead of at Dewberry Creek as Dutch had originally suggested. This camp, Clemens Point, was far more secluded. Arthur agreed and he took the German man back to his family. 

Grace was helping the German woman and children pack up their wagon as Arthur and the German man rode up. 

"Andreas!" the woman yelled and ran to her husband, closely followed by their children.

"Vielen Danke! Thank you!" Andreas said to Arthur and Grace, then reached under his wagon and retrieved a couple of gold ingots. He handed one to each of them, thanked them again, and drove off with his family. 

"Not a bad payday," said Arthur, putting the ingot in his pouch. 

"You can have mine." Grace held out the gold to him. 

"Nah, you keep it. You earned it." 

"I don't need it." 

"Don't you know how much you can get for it?"

"Yes, but I don't need it. You do. You have a lot of people to take care of."

"Don't you have anyone?" 

"Just Tuula." She nodded to her horse. 

"I can't take it." 

She dropped the ingot on the ground, mounted her horse and rode away without another word. Arthur sighed to himself as he picked up the gold. He could hang on to it for her. But why wouldn't she take it? It was worth a lot of money. 

  
_Charles does not need to think to be good. It comes naturally to him, like right is deep within as opposed to this conflict between good and evil that rages within me._

_Makes me wonder why Grace seems to have latched on to me instead of him._

  
The new camp at Clemens Point was perfect. Hidden in the trees off the road, but right on the river. A few boaters out rowing would go by, but they weren't anyone to worry about. Just leisuremen. A small island lay across from the camp. 

"Mr. Morgan!" Pearson approached Arthur a couple days later, "Mr. Morgan, would you put your fishing skills to use? I hear there's some good trout in the area and we could use something different for the stew."

"Why, what's wrong with you?" 

"I still have to cook the damn thing, I can't waste time fishing. Besides, I've only caught bluegill and perch over on the dock. Maybe you could take the new boat out and see what you can get near the island over there." Pearson pointed out to the river. 

"Fine," Arthur sighed, "I ain't much of a fisherman, but fine." 

"Thank you, Mr. Morgan!"

"Yeah, yeah," Arthur waved off Pearson and went to retrieve his fishing pole. Hosea had procured a boat for the camp, but whether it was acquired legally or not was left unsaid. He rowed out to the island, watching a couple of iguanas dash off into the bushes as he dragged the boat onto the sand. He cast out, but didn't get any bites after a while so he wandered around to the other side. 

Damn waste of time, he thought, as he tried a fourth spot further around the island. He cast out again and waited. As he did, he could just see Blackwater on the other side of the lake. He swore to himself as he thought of all that money still left there and of everything that went wrong. 

He still didn't know everything that happened. 

"How's the fishing?" 

He dropped his fishing rod in surprise. He picked it up and looked behind him on the island, but there was no one there.

"Wrong direction."

He turned and saw Grace in the water up to her bare shoulders. 

"Jesus, you're naked!" he stated as he reeled in the line.

"Well spotted," she smiled. "Catch many fish?"

"Nah, don't seem to be bitin'."

"You can have mine," she pointed to the shore further down where he noticed Tuula in the shade with her clothes and a basket. "I don't need them. Was just going to give them away anyway. May as well be to you."

"You sure?" 

"Yeah," she said. "You have a lot of people to feed."

"Thanks." He usually wasn't one for charity, but if it meant he didn't have to listen to Pearson moaning and groaning about not having any fish. "What are you doing, swimming naked out here?"

"Usually I swim in a little cove off the shore, but some people happened to move their camp over there," she said with a smile. 

"Heh, guess there are too many prying eyes, huh?"

"Why don't you come in?" she asked. "Cool off for a bit." 

"Nah." 

"You sure? It's lovely in here." 

"I ain't taking my clothes off," he said. 

"Suit yourself. Didn't mean anything by it." 

"You ain't afraid of anything biting you in there?"

"Are you?"

He looked around and dropped his fishing rod in the sand. "Aw, hell, why not? Just... don't watch." 

She smiled and turned away so he could have some privacy. He stripped down and entered the water, still watching all around. 

"No one will see," she said, still facing the other way. 

"How do you know?"

"I just do." She turned to him once he was in the water. "See? Refreshing."

"So why are you still following us?" he asked, swimming closer to her but still keeping his distance. 

"I think you're the one following me," she said. "I mean, here I was, having a nice swim and then you show up."

"Oh no, it ain't like that and you know it." 

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't," she shrugged. 

"Are you always this cryptic?" 

"Sometimes. Are you always this cynical?"

"Sometimes." He smiled more warmly at her. They were silent for a few moments, treading water. "So, were you following us? When we found that German family?"

"No, I was riding by and I saw your horse. I thought I'd stop and say hi, then I saw that woman with a gun in your face."

"You're lucky you didn't get shot."

"Yeah, but I didn't." 

Arthur frowned slightly. Grace didn't seem too concerned that she might have gotten shot if that German woman had reflexively pulled the trigger. 

"So how do you defend yourself out here?" he asked. 

She shrugged a bit. "I usually don't get into trouble." 

"But what about against animals, like wolves or bears?"

"I have a fast horse."

"There are some nasty people out there that have guns faster than your horse."

"I know, I'm currently swimming naked with one of them," she grinned at him. 

"I'm serious, there are some very bad people out there, worse than me."

"Didn't know you were so concerned. I'm fine, Arthur. Really." She paused. "I did meet with Agents Milton and Ross again. They asked about what happened in Valentine."

"What did you tell them?"

"Said I didn't know much about that, but you were moving camp again. Turns out you're all returning to Colter," she said. "They didn't find you there before, so why not just go back?"

"If I never see snow again it'll be too soon," Arthur said. 

"Not me, I love the snow. I mean, maybe not all the time, but I do like it."

"Don't get to swim when it's snowing."

"I don't get to skate when the lake isn't frozen either." 

"You sure like skating, don't ya?"

"I've been back up there a few times. I ordered a pair of ice skates from Canada so at least I'll have some in my size." She looked over to the shore, and they noticed they had drifted closer to her horse. "Hey, wanna see something neat?"

"Like what?" he asked suspiciously. 

"We have to get out first. Turn around so I can get out and get dressed."

Arthur nodded and turned away. He heard her leave the water and for a brief moment, a part of him wanted to have a peek, but no. He couldn't do that. Not to her. A few minutes later she called out that she was dressed. He looked and saw her facing the other way, allowing him to get out and retrieve his clothes to dress. He picked up his fishing rod from the sand and joined her as she was brushing out her long dark hair. 

"So what's this thing you wanted to show me?" he asked. 

"This way," she put her brush in her saddlebag and led Arthur through the trees. It only took a minute but they came to a small cove in the middle of the island. She pointed to an old, wrecked ship washed up on shore. "I think it was a pirate ship."

"A pirate ship?"

"Yeah. I found it ages ago, but haven't seen it up close yet. Wonder how it got here." They walked over for a closer look. "Think there's any treasure still inside?"

"Probably not, but we can look," Arthur said. Grace gleefully hopped up through a hole in the side of the ship. Arthur leaned in, trying to see in the darkness. 

"Ooo, there is something!" she called out, then carried out a rusty metal box. She set it on the sand and turned to him. "You do the honours."

Arthur took out his knife and pried the box open. Inside was a small dusty bottle filled with a mysterious liquid. Arthur uncorked it and gave it a sniff. "Smells like rum." He cautiously took a sip. "Tastes like rum."

"Gosh, do you think it could be rum?" Grace joked. 

Arthur laughed and set it aside. He took out a small pouch that felt heavy, but when he opened it it was just full of small stones. "What in the world?"

"Weird. Maybe someone stole the actual contents and replaced them with stones," said Grace as she took out one of them for a closer look. 

"There's some papers here too, or used to be. They're mush now." He poked at a pulpy substance at the bottom of the box. 

"I'm going to see if there's anything else." Grace returned to the ship as Arthur opened the bottle of rum again for another sip. A few moments later, she called out again. "I found something, but you have to close your eyes!"

"What? Why?"

"Just do it." 

Arthur closed his eyes. "Okay, they're closed." He heard the old wood creak as Grace walked across it then heard her jump down to the sand. 

"Well? What do you think?"

He opened his eyes and started laughing at the sight of her wearing an oversized tricorn hat that nearly covered half her face. 

"Is it me?" she asked, pushing the hat above her eyes. 

"It certainly is you," Arthur plucked the hat off her head and put it on his own.

"Ooh, it suits you," she said. "Fits you better than me."

"You sound disappointed."

"I am! I thought I was going to have a fancy new hat to wear," she pouted. 

"Well, here you go then," he shoved the hat back on her head, covering her eyes again. 

"Thanks," she grinned. She pushed the hat back above her eyes. "Still have that rum?" Arthur handed it to her. She turned and climbed on to the slanted deck of the ship. She made her way to the ship's wheel and raised the bottle towards him. "Ahoy there! Give me all your treasure!" She took a swig of the rum, then jumped off the deck, stumbling when she landed. "I could've been a pirate."

"Nah, you're too nice to be a pirate," Arthur said, taking the bottle from her.

"How do you know how nice I am?"

"Because I've met you. Makes me wonder why you bother following a bastard like me."

"Because I like you."

"Jesus. Why?"

"Because you're nice. Well, most of the time." She took the rum back and drank. "Some of the time. Okay, maybe you're not nice all of the time, but you're interesting." She handed the rum back to him. "You're a good man, Arthur Morgan. Maybe you don't think so, and maybe your actions speak otherwise, but I can see it."

"You and I have a different definition of the word 'good'," he scoffed. 

"Maybe we do. But maybe one day you'll see what I see. Anyway, you should probably head back with that fish. They might think you've been wasting time over here." She smiled up at him and walked back to her horse. She handed him the fish out of her basket. 

"How'd you get out here anyway?"

"Canoe. Tuula swims alongside. It's on another islet," she added when she noticed Arthur looking for her canoe. She picked up her now empty basket and patted her horse. "See you around, Arthur."

He waved and watched her disappear down the island. He returned to his boat and rowed back to camp. As he did, he could just see someone in a canoe with a horse swimming alongside further down the shore. 

There was something about her. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. While it was strange that she kept turning up wherever he went, he felt like he could trust her. But she was just so... nice. Decent. The type of woman a man like him shouldn't have. He didn't even know how he really felt about her. 

One thing he did know was that he looked forward to seeing her again, irritating as she may be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this was a long one, but fun. I think Arthur deserves a bit of silliness before shit hits the fan later.


	10. Moonshine and History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Hosea give away free moonshine, then Arthur and Grace break into an old house to look for some old junk for some old drunk.

_So, turns out we're holed up outside a town called Rhodes, deep in old cotton country. The place has not recovered from the war and those folks that is sober enough to think are still angry._

_The drunk, which is most of them, are angrier still but perhaps for other reasons._

  
_Finally, we have achieved a state of true insanity. For the first time in my life, I'm a deputized lawman. Dutch is convinced this will somehow lead to riches beyond compare. Seems the one powerful local family, The Grays, ex-Scots, is warring with another proud English family, the Braithwaites, like some long running dispute from the border country._

  
_I've met some charming women in my time. Catherine Braithwaite ain't one of them. Even Hosea's charms were lost upon her. She refused our offer of selling her back her shine and instead got us to give it away to annoy the saloon owners in town._

_Hosea put on quite a show until we got interrupted by the bastards we robbed when grabbing the stuff. We just about escaped, but not without a bit of help..._

  
Arthur watched as Hosea announced to the Rhodes saloon patrons that they were giving away free moonshine. Hosea had Arthur wear a large brimmed hat and stuck a pipe in his mouth so no one would recognise him. As much as he hated it, Arthur did admire Hosea's ingenuity. Even if he did have to pose as brainless idiot called Fenton.

He was pouring out shots of moonshine when he heard a familiar voice. 

"Fenton, is it? I'll take one." 

Arthur tried not to smile and carefully poured one for Grace, hoping she wouldn't give him away. She gulped down the moonshine in one go. 

"I'll have another." He poured another one for her. "Cheers," she toasted him and walked away, getting lost in the crowd of patrons clamboring for their free booze.

Hours later, the saloon was full of drunken idiots, being edged to drink more by Hosea. Arthur kept pouring the shine until the saloon doors burst open and a group of uniformed men walked in. 

"It's the Lemoyne Raiders," he heard someone hiss nearby. 

"You!" One of Raiders, presumably their leader, yelled at Hosea. 

"Me?" Hosea replied, pretending to look baffled. 

"You're the bastards who stole the liquor we was going to buy!" 

"Gentlemen! We're in advertising," Hosea said, trying to defuse the sitation, "Why don't you come in and have a drink?"

"That's our goddamn liquor!" the Raider turned to the others, "Boys, get 'em!"

The saloon patrons scattered out as Arthur took cover and the Lemoyne Raiders started shooting. Hosea had ran up the stairs and was shooting the ones that had come up the outdoor stairs. Arthur shot the ones downstairs before heading up to help Hosea. 

"Arthur! Help!" Hosea shouted. Arthur ran to try to get the Raider off him, but more had shot their way through the door. As he was fighting them off, Hosea shouted louder. Just as Arthur had shot the last Raider, he turned to see Grace smashing the Raider attacking Hosea with a bottle before running past him. 

"Dammit, let's go!" Arthur shouted. He and Hosea ran the opposite way out to the balcony, shooting more Raiders before jumping over the side into the wagon. Arthur looked back, but Grace was nowhere to be seen. But he couldn't worry about her now, they had to get out of there. 

They drove out of Rhodes, taking out more Lemoyne Raiders (how many of those bastards were there?), until finally it was quiet. 

"Jesus, all this for a few bottles of booze?" Arthur said. 

"I reckon it's more they don't want another gang on their patch."

"Remind me not to take up a career in, what was it?"

"Advertising. But never mind that, who was that girl in the saloon? She seemed to know you," Hosea said. 

"You figured that out when she smashed a bottle over that Lemoyne Raider's head?"

"Nah, I saw it when she went up to the bar. You may have tried to hide it, but I saw your face light up a bit when she asked for a drink."

"How the hell did you even notice when you were putting on your performance?"

"An old man knows," Hosea tapped the side of his nose, "Well, I hope she got out alright."

"I'm sure she has," Arthur replied, but feeling a bit worried that she may not have gotten out. 

"Anyway, I'm going to visit ol' Ma Braithwaite, bring some of this moonshine as, say, a peace offering," Hosea stopped the wagon near the entrance to Clemens Point and looked in the back at the leftover bottles. Arthur jumped off and started heading in. "That was fun, Fenton!" Hosea called after him, "We'll make an actor of you yet!" 

Arthur rolled his eyes and hurried down the path. He retrieved his horse and quickly rode back into town. The lawmen had descended on the saloon, but Arthur kept his distance. He watched them bring out the bodies of the Lemoyne Raiders they had killed, but no bodies of any women. Relieved, he rode back to camp. 

  
The next day, Arthur headed into town again. He had intended on seeing if he could find Grace, but instead found Jeremiah Compson. 

_Stumbled into this old drunk on the streets of Rhodes. I don't know quite why he made an impression. The world is full of self-pitying drunks. Hell, I hope to grow into one myself. But something about this fella, Jeremiah Compson. Blamed everyone else for his plight. Lost his career and his home. Wanted me to go find a few trinkets at his home just north of Scarlett Meadows._

Arthur mounted his horse just as he spotted Grace riding in. She waved and rode over. 

"Hello, Arthur," she greeted him, "Or is it Fenton today?"

"Heh, it's Arthur."

"Deputy Arthur, looks like," she pointed at the badge attached to his shirt. "Too bad you weren't a deputy last night, heard there was a bit of a ruckus at the saloon."

"Thanks, for, well, you know."

"Any time. Is the other man alright?"

"Hosea? Oh yeah. He's going to keep on keeping on for a while yet."

"Oh, good. I remember seeing him in Blackwater. Quite the charmer." 

"Yep, sounds like him. So how did you get out last night?"

"I walked out the door. The Lemoyne Raiders seemed more concerned over killing you and Hosea." She paused. "I saw you coming back to Rhodes afterward to watch them clear out the bodies."

"Just making sure one of them weren't you."

"Aw, you really do care," she joked, "So what kind of trouble are you getting into today?"

"Heh, well actually I'm about to break into some old house to get some mementos back for some old drunk."

"And just the other day you were saying you weren't a nice man."

"Shut up," he said with a smile. "Want to come along? I mean, if you're not busy."

"I'd love to. Where are we headed?"

"Place called Compson's Stead."

"So what happened to this house?" Grace asked as they rode up to it. 

"Apparently the bank took it," Arthur dismounted and went up to the front door. "Letter here says it's now property of the bank, court order."

"Shame. Looks like it was a nice house." Grace dismounted. "Maybe there's a way in through the back."

They went round the back and entered through the kitchen door. 

"So what are we looking for?" she asked, opening a cupboard to find it empty. 

"An old watch, an old pistol, and a ledger."

"A ledger? Strange thing to want to keep."

"Must be important to him."

"Guess so. Is this him?" She took down a photo from the wall of a couple and their child. 

"Looks like it," Arthur stood next to her as she turned it over and read the back. 

_June 7, 1855_

_Dear Sir,_   
_Please accept this likeness of your family as a small token of appreciation for your assistance in the recovery of my Property. Like your ol' Pa, you're a cunning old dog and a credit to this community._   
_Yours,_   
_Col. Joshua Nixon,_   
_The Ascension Plantation_

"I really hope by 'returning property' meant he returned a horse or a wagon or something," said Grace, returning the photo to the wall.

"Somehow I don't think so."

They moved into the next room. 

"Found the watch," she said, picking up a broken, dusty pocket watch from the mantle. She handed it to Arthur who put it in his satchel. 

"Just the pistol and the ledger now."

"Maybe they're upstairs," she said, looking at the broken staircase. "Here, give me a boost. I'll have a look." 

Arthur helped her up to the second floor then continued searching the main floor. He could hear her walking above, the floor creaking from the footsteps. He went into the next room and saw a photo of a younger Jeremiah standing next to an open trapdoor. 

"Well, looky here," a voice from behind said. He turned around and saw two men entering, one holding a very old flintlock. 

"That your gun?" Arthur asked. 

"What business is it of yours?" the armed man asked. "This place is ours."

"I'm just looking for some things," said Arthur. 

"Too bad, you ain't leaving," the armed man tried firing the gun but it was too rusted. They both attacked Arthur with knives while he fought back. He finally stabbed one dead, and the other was about to stab him but Grace hit him over the head with a broken piece of wood. 

"Thanks," Arthur said, picking up the old rusted gun. "Well there's the gun."

"There's nothing upstairs," she said, checking the man she just knocked out. "This one's still alive, but he'll have a hell of a headache when he wakes up."

"There's a trapdoor over here," he led her to it and opened the door. 

"After you," she said. Arthur lit a lantern and headed downstairs. 

"Oh, shit," he said. 

"What is it?" Grace asked as she followed. Then she saw the manacles and chains against the walls. "Jesus..."

"Rotten bastard," Arthur said to himself. He found a book at the back of the room and opened it. It was a diary of a slave who had been lashed more than a hundred times over just two days. He read it out loud to Grace who looked upset. He put it back down and picked up another book. "This is his damn ledger?" he said angrily as he read it. "A list of damn slaves?"

"Goddamn it," Grace said. "You still going to give it to him?"

"I think we owe him a visit," he said, putting the ledger in his satchel and storming up the stairs and out of the house. Grace followed and they mounted their horses to confront Jeremiah Compson. 

  
"Old man!" Arthur called out when they reached Compson's camp. 

"Old man?" Compson stumbled out of his tent, "You- you show some respect."

"Respect? You?" Grace dismounted and approached him with Arthur. 

"You keep your damn woman quiet," Compson said angrily to Arthur. 

"Heh, fat chance," Arthur replied, "So you asked me to get you something."

"There's no bringing back what I want," Compson started pacing, "I want my job, my pride. The respect accorded to a gentleman."

"Too bad there aren't any gentlemen around," Grace said, crossing her arms. 

"See? Not even your own damn woman shows respect!" Compson glared, "The world... it ain't like it's supposed to be. If my woman talked like that, she'd have been taught a lesson."

Grace was about to say something, but Arthur stopped her. "Well, what about all this old crap, huh?" He threw the pocket watch and the flintlock to the ground at Compson's feet. 

"Don't you understand? They took my job away! I took pride in my work! And they pissed on my legacy!" Compson picked up the watch and pistol. 

"Old man, some jobs ain't for saving," Arthur then took the ledger out, "And some legacies are for pissing on." He threw the ledger into the fire. 

"No! What are you doing?" Compson tried to grab at the ledger, but the fire was too hot. They watched the book go up in flames. "That's my history!" He picked up his pistol and tried to fire it at Arthur, but it wouldn't work. "Damn you! Damn you, I still exist."

"I oughta just shoot you right now," Arthur said angrily, aiming his own gun at the old man who cowered. 

"No, Arthur," Grace pushed his arm down. "Let the asshole suffer the rest of his life. Death right now is too good for him." She then approached Compson, the fire burning in her eyes. "If there is any justice in the next life, you will suffer like you made those poor people suffer." She strode away quickly, mounted her horse and sped off. 

Arthur followed, trying to keep up. "Grace!" he shouted, "Hold up!" She finally slowed at some crossroads, moving off the road to let a wagon pass. 

"Sorry," she said as he caught up. 

"If I had known we were going to find all that, I wouldn't have asked you to come along," he said. "You okay?"

"Yeah, it's just... it makes me so angry! All those people, tortured and treated worse than dogs at the hands of men like Jeremiah Compson." She wiped her eyes. 

"I know. Bastards, all of them," said Arthur, "Well, at least it's in the past now."

"That's the thing, Arthur," she looked over at him. "It isn't. And if you don't believe me, ask Lenny. Or the other coloured girl in your camp."

"Tilly."

"Yes, Tilly. Ask them." She sighed. "Anyway, I think I need to be alone now. See you around." 

Arthur rode back to camp, thinking about what had happened. He didn't say much to anyone else, but watched Lenny and Tilly happily converse with the others, like they didn't have a care in the world. And for that moment, perhaps they didn't. Perhaps they were the lucky ones. 


	11. Lives Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grace and Arthur bond over death. A storm causes chaos until Grace saves the day, but at what cost?

Arthur decided it was time to go find Black Belle for that silly gunslinger book. Grace had agreed to go along with him but he had no idea how to find her. He didn't even know where she lived. All he had to go on was she had a habit of turning up where he was so he figured all he had to do was ride out and eventually she would find him. 

Today, however, he found her. 

She was kneeling in front of some grave markers in a small abandoned town. A broken sign by the road said, "Pleasance, Founded August 1883." He dismounted his horse and walked up to her. 

"What do you think happened here?" she asked without looking up. He read the grave markers, all for people killed in September 1883.

"Looks like someone lost their mind," he replied. 

"Some of these were just children," she sniffled, "Murdered by some maniac."

"It happens," Arthur shrugged. 

"How can you say that?" Grace said angrily, standing up. 

"This happened a long time ago, why do you care now?"

"It's just sad, is all," she said, "Even though they're dead, we can still show a bit of respect and compassion."

"Don't see no point in wasting time on the dead." 

Grace glared and stormed away from him. Arthur sighed and followed her to the steps of the abandoned chapel where she had sat down. 

"I try not to think about the dead much," Arthur said, sitting down next to her.

"I suppose not, since it seems to follow you everywhere," she replied, looking down at her hands. 

They were quiet for a minute before Arthur spoke. "I had a son once." Grace looked at him, but didn't say anything. "Was with a girl, Eliza. She was a waitress. It wasn't a serious thing, but then she had Isaac. I couldn't make promises I wouldn't keep, so I said I'd support them however I could. Stayed with them whenever I was in town. He was a good kid. So was she, only nineteen. Then one day I rode up and there were two crosses outside. Found out they had been robbed and murdered, all for just ten dollars."

"I'm so sorry," Grace said. "But clearly you still think of them often." 

"I guess I do," he said, "I just don't talk about it. But... their deaths, well, I guess it made me realise I weren't meant for anything good." 

She didn't say anything but took his hand. Arthur looked over at her and saw she had tears in her eyes. 

"You alright? I didn't mean to upset you."

"Sorry, it's just... I had a son too. And a daughter." 

"Really? What happened?"

Grace didn't say anything for a moment, as if debating whether or not to open up. Arthur gently squeezed her hand and waited. 

"I was engaged to a man. William Lawson. I became pregnant before we married, he broke off the engagement and my family disowned me, so I was left on my own. I wandered around trying to find work to support myself, and when I gave birth, they came out dead," she said, her voice breaking.

"Shit," was all Arthur could say. He felt rage run through him and he stood. "Where is this bastard? I'll go pay him a visit."

"Dead." 

"Good."

"I guess."

"How long ago did it happen?"

"A while ago. Doesn't matter now." She stood and headed for her horse. "Anyway, I better be going."

"You gonna be okay?" 

"Yeah," she said. "It's just... a lot of memories from a different life." 

"Wait, do you still want to go meet Black Belle?" Arthur asked. 

Grace turned back to him. "No, I think I'll pass. I've got a lot on my mind. Good luck."

"Sure." He watched as she mounted her horse and rode away. Perhaps Black Belle can wait another day. He wasn't entirely looking forward to possibly being shot at again. 

  
Arthur returned to camp, unsure of what to make of what Grace had told him. He felt strangely helpless, even though he'd only knew her for a short time, and he certainly didn't know her when she was expecting. Like when he found Eliza and Isaac's graves, he felt like he should've been there. 

"Mr. Morgan!" 

"Hm?"

"What is with you?" Miss Grimshaw came up to him, "I've been calling for you!"

"Sorry," he apologised, "What do you need?"

"Hosea says there's a storm rolling in, we need you to help shore up the tents."

"Sure." Arthur put Grace out of his mind as he helped the others anchor the tents and other objects down. The wind was picking up and dark storm clouds were closing in. Looks like that much needed rain was going to arrive. He was about to return to his own wagon, but Kieran was having trouble keeping the horses calm so he decided to help him. 

"Thanks, Arthur," Kieran said, trying to settle down Charles's horse, Taima, "They know a bad storm is coming."

"Yeah, best we can do is try to make them comfortable," Arthur replied, patting his own horse before moving to John's. 

"It would be better if we had proper shelter for them."

"Well, we don't exactly have time to build barns every time we lay down camp."

"I didn't mean-- I mean-- I know we have to move, but I was just saying."

"I know, I know."

Despite their attempts, Arthur and Kieran weren't able to settle down the horses. It started to rain as the horses became much more agitated. 

"Don't worry about them!" Hosea shouted, "They'll find their way back if they run off!"

Arthur hung on to his hat to keep it from blowing away as he turned to follow Hosea. Kieran very reluctantly let go of Taima and she galloped into the trees with some of the other horses. They followed Hosea to the rest of the gang who were still trying to keep everything from blowing away. 

"Jack! Where's Jack?" Abigail shouted, looking around frantically, "Damn it, where is he?" 

They looked and John spotted him near the water. "Over there. Jack!" he called out, "Jack, get back here!"

"My boat!" Jack yelled back and ran over to the dock, following a small toy boat that was in the water. John ran after him. When he reached the slippery dock, he lost his footing and they both fell into the rough waters.

Abigail screamed as the whole gang ran to the shore. Arthur and Charles immediately leapt into the camp boat to row out. 

"Keep your heads above the water, John!" Arthur yelled. He could just see John trying valiantly to keep himself and Jack afloat. Arthur and Charles rowed as hard as they could, but the waves were getting too rough. "Hold on, we almost got you!" He just finished yelling when a large wave capsized their boat. When he surfaced, the boat was upside down and Charles was already swimming towards John and Jack, now barely still above water. Arthur tried to follow, but the waves were becoming too strong. 

Most of the men from camp were galloping along the shore on their horses. Arthur swam back to shore and whistled for his horse to catch up. Charles couldn't get to John and Jack and had swam back to shore as well. As they rode to catch up, they watched as the others tried to lasso John and Jack, but the two were far too out. 

Further ahead of the group, someone on another horse had galloped straight into the water. Arthur swore as he realised it was Grace and Tuula. He watched as they swam out, the waves crashing against them. Grace slid off Tuula into the water and Arthur wasn't sure if she had meant to do it or if she had been knocked off. After what felt like ages, Jack was pushed up on Tuula's back, followed by John. Tuula slowly turned in the water and swam for shore. There was no sign of Grace. 

The gang caught up as Tuula stumbled out of the waters and fell on her side. Dutch and Hosea dismounted and picked up Jack, who was coughing, while Bill and Lenny dragged John further in. Kieran had ran straight to Tuula. Arthur looked out into the lake, but didn't see Grace. 

"We thought we lost you," Hosea said gratefully, hugging Jack close and looking down at John as he tried to catch his breath. 

"Wait, isn't that the horse we saw up in the mountains?" Javier asked Arthur. 

Arthur didn't reply right away, still watching the waters. "Yeah, it's the same horse," Arthur turned to Kieran, "How is she?"

"Just exhausted," Kieran said, petting Tuula, "She just needs some rest."

"Well, let's get John and Jack back to camp so they can get warm and dry," Dutch said, mounting up. Hosea took Jack with him as John was helped up behind Bill. 

"I'll bring this girl back when she's able," Kieran said, petting Tuula. 

Arthur reluctantly returned to camp, losing hope that Grace had somehow survived. The waves were too rough. His wagon and tent had tipped over from the winds, as well as Strauss's medicine wagon. Dutch's tent had blown away, leaving his things scattered across the camp. Pearson's chuckwagon was still upright, sheltered by the trees. 

Abigail ran to Hosea and grabbed Jack. "Oh, you silly boy, don't you do that again!" she cried, "You don't go near the water ever again, you hear me?"

Jack nodded and she hugged him again before carrying him over to the wagons that were still upright. While the others were relieved that John and Jack had been rescued, Arthur was left worried about what happened to Grace. 

The gang spent the next few days cleaning up after the storm. Kieran had returned alone, saying when Tuula had recovered, she immediately galloped off down the shore. For a moment, Arthur had wanted to ride out and follow Tuula, but he was needed here. 

His photographs were gone, blown away when his wagon had tipped over. Even his hat was gone, lost when he and Charles had tried rowing out into the raging water to save John and Jack. He felt strangely incomplete without his hat. He had others in his trunk, but it wasn't the same. 

Pearson had sent Charles out hunting and asked Arthur to go into town to pick up some smaller extras to replenish supplies. Arthur agreed and rode out, overhearing Dutch and Hosea talk about the Grays and Braithwaites as he did. Things were getting back to normal. He wondered what was going to be the next part of their plan to get closer to whatever gold is out there. 

He hitched his horse outside of the general store and went in. As he did, he bumped into a woman who was just leaving. 

"Oh, excuse me," she said. 

"Sorry- oh, Grace!"

She looked up at him, her face looking very pale and sickly. "Arthur, how are you?"

"How the hell did you survive?" 

"I swam under the waves," she explained, "Ended way up the shore. Tuula found me." 

"Are you okay?" he asked, taking in the sight of her. 

"Oh yeah, I'm fine, it's nothing," she brushed it off. "How is the boy? And that man?" 

"They're okay," he said. "Thank you for saving them. What were you doing out there?"

"I was leaving Rhodes and then I saw all of you riding on the shore, but then I saw the man and the boy in the water," she said, pausing to cough. "Sorry, anyway, I wanted to help if I could and I did. Anyway, don't let me keep you," she started to walk away. 

"You sure you're alright?" he asked. 

"Yes. Oh! I almost forgot. When you're done in there, I have something for you."

Arthur nodded, frowning slightly, before going into the store to pick up the canned food Pearson had requested. When he left, Grace was standing outside with Tuula, holding the hat he had lost in the lake. 

"Thought you might like this back," she handed it to him with a smile. 

"How in the hell did you get this?"

"Found it on the shore, north of your camp." She then reached into her saddle bags. "I found these too. I tried to fix them up, they were a bit damaged." She took out something wrapped in paper with twine around it and gave it to Arthur. He unwrapped it to find his missing photos. His mother, his father, his old dog. The first picture taken with Dutch and Hosea all those years ago. And Mary. 

"I--" he started to say, but couldn't continue. He was just amazed to be seeing them again. 

"Who are they?" she asked. 

"This is my father," he showed her the picture, "He wasn't a good man. Was hung when I was about 12. My mother had died long before that." He pointed to the picture of his mother, then moved on to the picture of the dog. "This was my dog, Copper. Never could control him, but he had good spirit." 

"And you actually got him to sit still long enough for a photograph?" Grace asked with a smile. 

"Yeah, I was surprised too." He laughed then took out the next picture. "This was with Dutch and Hosea, god knows how many years ago."

"Goodness, this is _you_?" Grace took the picture from him and held it up, comparing the photo to the person. "I didn't even recognise you. I think I prefer you now."

"Now? With this old, ugly face?"

"Pfft, your face is fine. I like your face." She handed the picture back and pointed to the framed picture of Mary. "She seems to like it too."

Arthur didn't say anything. 

"What's her name?"

"Mary."

"She's beautiful," Grace said, "What happened with her?"

Arthur hesitated. "It was a long time ago."

"But you still love her." It wasn't a question. "And she still loves you."

"I don't know about that."

"I'm not blind, Arthur. I was there at the train station, remember?" 

"Yeah." 

"So...?"

"So, what?"

"Well, if you love her and she loves you, why aren't you two together?"

"I think-- well, it's just that we're two different people," he sighed.

"You weren't willing to give up your life as an outlaw?"

"I guess not. Can't really see myself settling down, having a wife and doing that whole thing."

"That has to be the saddest thing I've heard."

"Well, don't matter now. It's in the past," he stuffed the photographs into his own saddlebag. 

"You deserve happiness, Arthur." 

"Nah, not me," he mounted up and looked down at her. "You sure you're feeling okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she mounted her horse slowly, "It'll pass in a day or two. I'll see you around." 

He watched her ride out of town and couldn't help but worry about her. She did not look well at all, despite insisting otherwise. But what was he supposed to do? Bring her back to camp, have Miss Grimshaw take a look? He can't go around bringing strangers into camp, even if she did save two of their own. He could've found a doctor for her, but he somehow got the feeling she wouldn't go willingly. He was just going to have to hope he wasn't going to come across her corpse later. 

When he returned to camp, he carefully put his photos back up. He looked longingly at Mary's picture, wondering where she was at that moment and how she was doing. Was she thinking of him too? Did she wonder as much as he did about what kind of life they'd be living if they hadn't parted all those years ago? He sighed and set her picture in its place beside his bed where it belonged. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this story. (Yes, you!) All your views and kudos are very much appreciated and brings me joy. :)


	12. Debt Collecting II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Grace go retrieve a debt from a Mr. Winton Holmes.

_Strauss has been loaning again and I've been sent out to collect again. The first, a Gwyn Hughes, paid back his loan by digging up a grave in the churchyard. Awful business._

  
Arthur pocketed the brooch as Gwyn Hughes rushed away. He looked down at the open grave with disdain and left. He much preferred beating a man for his money than desecrating graves.

"Goodness, what happened to you?"

Grace approached, looking healthy as can be. He then realised his clothes were dirty from a brawl he had with two men, preventing them from entering the churchyard and seeing what Mr. Hughes was up to. 

"Oh, just collecting on more loans."

"Jesus, have you tried just asking for the money instead of beating them down?"

"Nah, this was... something else."

"Oh, so the person who owed actually had the money?"

"Not exactly."

"So how did they pay it back?" she frowned. 

Arthur lowered his voice. "He dug up a grave for some jewelry."

"Jesus christ, are you insane?" she hissed at him, "What is wrong with you?"

"I ain't the one digging up graves!"

"But you didn't exactly stop him! Good god," she shook her head, "How many other people do you need to collect from?"

"Just one. He's way up by Strawberry," he paused, thinking, "Why don't you come along?"

"Me? Why?"

"Well maybe he'll be willing to pay the money if you're there."

"Money isn't going to suddenly appear if I'm there," she said, "But sure, I'll go. It's been a little while since I've followed you anywhere." 

"Ha, I'll just bring this back to camp and I'll meet you near the border."

  
It took a few hours, but when he reached the border, Grace was already there waiting for him. She had changed out of the dress she had been wearing into a pair of riding pants and a brown jacket. 

"So here's the deal," she said, "If this guy can't pay back the money and can't guarantee payment within the next week, I'll pay his debt."

"Why would you do that?" 

"To save his face from being beaten to a pulp," she said, "I'll get him to pay me back when he can."

"What if he never repays?"

Grace shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

"Why do you not care about money?"

"I just don't."

Arthur frowned as they started to make their way to Strawberry. He found it very strange that she didn't seem to worry about money. Did she secretly have a fortune stashed away somewhere? Or is she like him and robs people of their money? He laughed to himself at the thought. There was no way she was out here thieving like they do, and if she was, then she was brilliant at covering it up. 

"What's so funny?"

"Just trying to imagine you stealing money."

"What?" she laughed too, "Why on earth are you imagining that?"

"I don't know," he said, "It is a funny thought."

"Me stealing is funny?"

"I can't see you doing it," Arthur chuckled, "You'd probably just ask them politely to hand over everything they've got."

"Maybe that's the key, has anyone actually tried asking instead of demanding? Hold on, I'm going to try."

"What?"

Grace cleared her throat and spoke dramatically. "Arthur Morgan, may I have all of your money please?"

"Shut up," he laughed. 

"Damn, maybe it doesn't work," she laughed too, "Or maybe they have to be unsuspecting. I mean, you were ready for me to ask." 

"Well, I'll just stick to demanding, I don't think I know how to be polite."

"Yes, you do. You're usually nice with me, for some reason. And you're polite when you aren't collecting debts or robbing people."

"Heh, I suppose. Just don't expect me to be nice with this fella."

"If you were, I'd take you straight to a doctor to find out what's wrong with you."

The rest of the ride was calm and quiet. Arthur found it nice to be able to ride with someone and not need to converse the whole time. He wasn't much of a conversationalist anyway. When they neared Strawberry, Arthur halted his horse and took out the small map Strauss had drawn up. 

"So, Winton Holmes should be up this way," he pointed up a road to the right, "That is, if he hasn't fled the country or something."

"Alright, let's go," Grace said and followed Arthur up the road to a small camp where a man was sleeping by a fire. Arthur dismounted while Grace remained on her horse. He walked up to the man and kicked him awake. 

"Winton Holmes?" 

"Wha- who- I- yes, yes, that's me," Winton stammered. 

"You got some money for me, boy?" Arthur demanded. "I seen your name in our ledger."

"Oh, you're with the German?" Winton slowly stood, "Look, I got it for you.. it's just, I don't got it yet."

Arthur frowned. 

"It's up in them hills," said Winton. 

"Panning for it?" 

"Hunting it. I tracked this cougar, lily white coat, very rare. The pelt'll more than cover what I owe."

"No offense, Mr. Holmes, but you don't look like much of a hunter," Grace spoke up. 

"Oh, Miss, I can hunt, a-and this cougar, it'll be worth it," Winton said, "Look, I'm outta work and this'll be the only way you get paid. And the hard work's already done."

Grace and Arthur looked at each other. He shrugged, and gestured to Winton's horse. "Fine. Move." 

"We'll, uh, we'll need our horses, it's a bit of a trip," Winton mounted his horse. 

"Yeah, yeah," Arthur mounted, "Alright. Drive, boy. Let's get where we're going."

"Um, maybe the lady should stay behind?" Winton turned to Arthur and pointed at Grace. "It could be dangerous."

"She ain't in any more danger than you are right now," Arthur threatened, "Now drive!"

"Okay, okay, let's go." He rode out with Arthur and Grace following. They rode up the mountain before arriving at a cave. "This is it! Her den. We should leave the horses."

Arthur dismounted and turned to Grace. "You stay out here. And here," he walked over and handed her his pistol. "Just in case."

"Sure," she took the gun and watched the men light up their lanterns before entering the cave. "You know this cougar is going to see you first, right?"

"Oh, but if there's two of us, we'll be okay," Winton insisted, taking out his own pistol. 

"Good luck." 

Arthur nodded and followed Winton into the cave. They walked slowly until they came to a break with two paths. Winton looked down both ways before turning back to Arthur. 

"I'll take the left, you go right, and we'll see if it converges down a ways," he said, "And look out for her."

"Yeah, yeah," Arthur headed to the left. This Winton Holmes better not decide to run, but if he did, Grace would probably stop him. Or she might just let him go and offer to pay his debt again. 

He could just hear the cougar snarl in the cave, sounding very close. That's the thing with caves, you never know how close or far away something is because how much it echoes. Suddenly he heard gunshots and a man crying out. 

"Holmes?" Arthur called, "Winton Holmes?" There was no answer. "You better not be messing with me, boy!" He rushed through the cave, stumbling across old corpses and bones of both animal and man. "How much does this thing eat?" 

The next body he found was that of Winton Holmes, his throat torn open and a look of terror still on his face. 

"Crap, she got him." So where was this cougar now? He listened carefully, turning slowly and lifting his lantern to try and spot the cougar. He heard the snarl again. 

"Arthur, behind you!" 

Arthur whirled around to see the cougar just about to leap. As it did, an arrow pierced through the cougar's eye. Arthur jumped out of the way as it landed, dead. He turned and saw Grace lowering a bow. 

"Jesus," he bent over in relief, "Damn hellcat."

"You okay?" 

"Yeah, but Mr. Holmes ain't," he pointed to Winton's body, then took out his knife and began skinning the cougar. 

"Damn, he seemed so nice," she said, crouching down next to the body. She closed his eyes, then started to drag it out. 

"What are you doing?"

"We ought to bury him," she said. 

"Here, I'll do it," he finished skinning the cougar and handed her the pelt. He dragged Winton Holmes's body out of the cave. She put the pelt on Arthur's horse and took out a collapsible shovel from her own saddlebag. 

"I think over here should do," she went over to a small clearing and started to dig. Arthur brought over the body then took the shovel from her. "I am capable, you know," she protested. 

"Yeah, well, you--"

"One word about me being a delicate woman or anything and I'm clocking you with your gun," she said. 

"I didn't mean it like that," he continued to dig, "But I think I'll get the job done faster."

"You're probably right there." She watched him dig for a bit before going over to Winton's horse, searching the saddlebags. 

"You looting?" 

"No, just trying to see if he has any names or addresses for family or anything," she said, taking out a small notebook and flipping through it, "They deserve to know what happened."

"Can't believe I'm doing this," Arthur shook his head, "Digging a grave for a damn dead debtor."

"It's because you're actually a good person," Grace grinned at him. 

"Hah, or maybe I just don't want to wait around for you to bury him yourself," he said, "Anything in that book?" 

"Nah, just notes about possible sites for gold panning and his notes about this cougar."

Arthur finished digging and dragged Winton's body into the hole. He covered it up as Grace stood by silently. When he finished, she placed rocks around the dirt, marking the spot of the grave. 

"Rest well, Winton Holmes," she said quietly. She turned to Arthur, "Well, I suppose we'll bring his horse into town and let the sheriff know."

"You expect me to go back to Strawberry? After what I've done?"

"Pfft, that was ages ago," she waved him off and mounted her horse, "It's not like you were going around shooting up the place and yelling your own name. And I assume you had your face covered."

"Of course I did." Arthur mounted his horse, took the reins of Winton's horse and they started down the mountain.

"Besides, I went in and asked if they knew who had shot up the town," Grace said, "They only knew it was someone associated with Micah Bell." 

"They didn't think it was suspicious you asking?"

"I said I heard some O'Driscolls talking about breaking out a friend of theirs in Strawberry. I mean, it wasn't entirely a lie. I did overhear some O'Driscolls in Valentine talking about breaking one of their own out of the Strawberry jail."

"You really are something else, you know that? What gets me is why you keep stepping in like that."

"Guess I don't want to see you all hang," she shrugged, "Except maybe Micah."

"Can't argue with you there," Arthur said, "Dutch told me I just couldn't see the heart inside of Micah."

Grace burst out laughing. "If he has a heart, then I am the goddamn queen of England." She paused. "He made some very nasty suggestions to me."

"What? When?" Arthur felt anger rush through him. 

"When he was in jail. I was by the hotel, having a look at Tuula's leg. She had strained it or something. But he kept calling out, making some very lewd comments."

"Goddamn bastard. I should've let him hang."

"But you didn't."

"I would have if I had known he talked to you like that."

"I don't think you would have."

"Why do you say that?" 

"Because Dutch asked you to break Micah out of jail."

"Yeah, but--"

"Would you really have told Dutch you wouldn't get Micah out of jail because he made some comments to a woman you barely know?"

"I guess you're right," Arthur reluctantly agreed. "You know, after that crap in Strawberry, he didn't even go back to camp?"

"Why not?"

"Wanted to bring in a peace offering first."

"'Micah' and 'peace' do not go together." 

"Hah, nope."

"So what sort of peace offering did he bring in?"

"We robbed a banking coach."

"'We'? So you were in on it too?"

"Yeah. Asked me to come meet him, and said he had information about a banking coach, so we robbed it."

Grace sighed. "How many did you kill?"

"Only one or two of the guards. Micah did most of the killing. We were ambushed by O'Driscolls after and I killed a whole lot more of them."

"Oh, well that's okay then. So how much did you get?" 

"There was a few thousand."

"Not bad."

"Yeah, but we still need more."

"How much? I have money."

"We don't need your money," Arthur scoffed. 

"I don't need it either. You can have it."

Arthur looked over at her, feeling confused. How could she not need money? He thought back to when the German man had given them each a gold ingot and she had simply dropped hers on the ground. While Arthur had a whole camp full of people to take care of, Grace said she only had Tuula. Even so, she couldn't possibly have enough to share with them. 

Could she?

They rode the rest of the way in silence. Grace went into the sheriff's to tell them about Winton Holmes while Arthur went down to the butcher's to sell the cougar's pelt. Luckily he received the full debt payment and then some in return. 

"It's getting late," she said, "Do you want to grab a room at the hotel here, or find somewhere to camp outside of town?"

"Um..."

"Well, I think I'm going to take the hotel," she said, leading Tuula to the hitching post outside, "As much as I like camping, I do need a bath." She dismounted and tied Tuula's reins to the hitching post before loosening her saddle and retrieving her saddlebags. She turned to Arthur. "Well, come along then." 

"Nah, I don't think so." 

"I'm not suggesting anything unseemly," she said with a smile. "Besides, you ought to wash up too. And no, I am not assisting this time."

Arthur chuckled and gave in. He hitched up Smokey next to Tuula and went into the hotel. 

"Ah, welcome to Strawberry," the hotel clerk greeted them. 

"May we have a room and also a bath, please?" Grace asked. 

"Of course, madam," the clerk said, "Let me just get the name for the register."

"Callahan," Arthur spoke up. Grace's eyes flicked to him, but the clerk didn't notice. 

"Mr. and Mrs. Callahan," the clerk wrote down the names, "Excellent. We'll give you room 2, up the stairs and around. I'll have the bath prepared."

"Thank you." Arthur and Grace headed up to the room, which looked quite comfortable. When they shut the door, she turned to him. 

"Callahan?"

"It's what I'm going by in Rhodes," he said, "You know, as deputy."

"Ah," she sat in a chair near the window and removed her boots, "I'll bathe first, since I'm still cleaner than you."

Arthur agreed and she left the room when the hotel clerk knocked to let them know the bath was ready. He took out his journal, wrote a few lines about the whole ordeal, and drew a few quick sketches of the cougar and of Winton Holmes's grave. He was just finishing up when Grace returned. 

"All yours," she said as she sat down and started to brush her long, damp hair. 

He went into the bath room, undressed, and stepped into the still hot water. It was a relief to his sore muscles and he lay there for a few minutes before starting to wash up. A knock on the door interrupted him. 

"Need any help in there?" a woman's voice asked through the door. It was not Grace. 

"No, thank you," he replied. After a moment, he added, "I'm married."

"Oh! My apologies, sir," the woman said. 

He finished washing up, changed into cleaner clothes, and returned to the room where Grace had already changed into a nightgown and pulling on a pair of thick socks. She smiled at him as he came in. 

"So that's what you look like without ten pounds of muck all over you," she joked. "Didn't want any help from the nice girl?"

"What? No," he frowned, sitting on the bed and removing his boots. 

"She knocked on the door and apologised for propositioning you, dear husband," she grinned. 

"Ha," he scoffed and stood up, "so I guess I'll take the floor then."

"You will do no such thing," Grace said as she pulled back the blankets, "At least this bed is bigger than the one up in the mountains." She lay down and pulled the blankets over her. "Good night, Arthur."

"Night." He sat back down on the bed, not wanting to lie down yet. Grace really was a curious woman. She was good and decent and yet still associated with him. Stranger still, he trusted her. And she seemed to trust him, against her better judgment. Not that he would ever do anything to put her in harm's way. She seemed to do that just fine on her own. 

He lay down, not bothering to get under the blankets. He turned towards her, realising he still didn't know much about her. What really made her start following them from Blackwater? And why was she still around now? 

Arthur was about to turn over on his back when he noticed the scar on her temple again. He lifted his head to have a better look. If he didn't know any better, he could've sworn it looked like a healed bullet wound. But if she had one in her head, she shouldn't be alive. Before he could stop himself, he touched it lightly. Grace moved slightly and he pulled his hand away. 

He'll ask her about it in the morning. It wouldn't be too personal of a question, would it? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've been posting chapters pretty much daily and it's because most of the scenes are already written. Things will probably slow down next week when I go back to work, so let's enjoy the updates while we can. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	13. The Trouble with Money

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Grace talk money then discover Fort Riggs. Arthur, Bill, Charles, and Uncle rob a Cornwall stagecoach.

The next morning, Arthur woke to find Grace already dressed and pulling her boots on. 

"Sleep well?" she asked. 

"Yeah," he sat up and stretched. 

"Liar. You were tossing and turning all night."

"I was?"

"Mmhm. A lot on your mind?" 

"I suppose."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No." He didn't know if there even was anything to talk about. 

"Okay." She pulled her braided hair into a low bun and stood. 

"How'd you get that scar?" he asked, pointing to the side of her head.

"Hm? What scar?"

"The one on your head, just there," he tapped his own temple. 

"What-- oh!" She touched the scar. "It's nothing, really."

"What happened?" 

"An unfortunate accident, that's all," she said, brushing him off.

Arthur frowned slightly, knowing there was more to it but deciding not to press the issue. They headed downstairs and were greeted by hotel clerk. 

"Mrs. Callahan, was the room to your liking?" he asked Grace. 

"Callahan? Oh! Yes, yes it was," she said quickly, "Sorry, still getting used to the name."

"Ah, excellent! Have a good day now!" he bid them goodbye and they left. 

"That was close," she went up to Tuula and fed her, "How do you keep track of your aliases?"

Arthur shrugged, "Sometimes I don't."

"Well, I think I'll stick with my own name. So I guess that means we're not married anymore, sorry," she laughed. 

"Ha, well, I'm not the marrying kind anyway." Arthur mounted up and they headed out of town. 

"You didn't want to marry Mary?" 

Arthur was silent for a moment. "We was engaged."

"Oh." Grace paused. "So what happened?"

"Like I said, I ain't the marrying kind."

"You mean you chose the outlaw life over her."

"Well, her family don't like me much anyway."

"So who broke off the engagement? Or was it mutual?"

"She broke it off, then went and married someone else."

"Oh." Grace paused. "And that's when you met Eliza?" 

"Nah, that was a few years later. There weren't anyone else."

"Do you know where Mary is now?"

"No. Why?"

"Thought I might go talk some sense into her," Grace shrugged, "After I talked sense into you too."

"For what?"

"For you two to get back together and go be happy together, of course."

"I ain't leaving."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, you aren't leaving the rest of your family, and somehow I don't think Mary would fit in with them."

"Nah, I ain't putting her at risk like that. Besides, we need money."

"Well, I have money, like I said yesterday," she said, "If I give it to you, would you take it and go?" 

"I ain't a charity."

"But you'd steal it. If I told you where it is, would you take it?"

"Are you asking me to steal from you?"

"If it will get you to take the money."

Arthur looked over at her to see if she was joking, but she was simply waiting for a response. He sighed, "I can't take it from you."

"You could earn it."

"How?"

"I don't know, I don't need anything from you."

"So what about you?" Arthur changed the subject, "Was there anyone else after that William feller?"

"A couple, but nothing serious," Grace said quietly, "I'm not the marrying kind either."

"Now I don't believe that for a second."

"I move around too much. It's just, there is so much out there! And I want to see as much of the world as I can. I can't do that if I get married and have to settle down somewhere."

"Why don't you marry someone who likes travelin' too?"

"I could, but..." she trailed off, going quiet. 

"But what?"

"I just can't. Besides, if I was married, how else am I going to follow you around?" she joked. 

"Well, you got me there," he laughed a bit. 

"What's that?" she pointed up the road to what looked like a large ruined camp. They rode closer to see an enclosed camp with a few buildings and destroyed tepees. The fence surrounding was burnt and falling apart. Debris scattered across the grounds. 

"I wonder if this is Fort Riggs," Arthur said. 

"Fort Riggs?" 

"I met this drunk fella, said he was in the army and kept Indians penned up here. Pretty awful."

Grace didn't say anything but looked angry enough to cry. She dismounted and went into the holding camp, stepping carefully as if she were trying to not to step on anything precious. Arthur followed. It was eerily quiet as they entered the one remaining building. A broken blackboard rested against the wall by a large table. Benches lined the rest of the room with a firestove in the back. Grace crouched down by the blackboard while Arthur walked to the back. He picked up a dusty piece of paper off a desk in the back. 

"What's that?" she asked. 

"Just a bunch of words," he said, "'Writing, attentive, zero, ice, young, ago, civilization.' Writing practice, I guess." He walked over and handed the paper to her. 

"Oh god," she said after a minute. 

"What?"

"It's coded. There's a message if you read the first letter of each word," she pointed out. "'Waziya comes with winter breath. His trees stand guard whispering all night that we sleep in our grave. Father fought and died so quickly. Mother dies slow.'" 

"Jesus." Arthur looked out of the nearby window where he thought he could just see a line of crosses just past the broken fence. "What's that first word you said?"

"Waziya? It's the Indian name of a giant who guards the aurora borealis," Grace explained, "He blows cold winds to bring ice and snow. They say he also brings famine and disease." She looked down at the note again. "Whoever wrote this, their father must've been killed by soldiers since he fought and died quickly. And their poor mother was probably stricken with illness and therefore was dying slowly. Or being starved. Or both." She wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve and left the building. 

Arthur followed her to one of the ruined tepees and watched as she stood silently with her eyes closed. She folded the paper carefully, put it in her satchel, and returned to her horse. Arthur mounted his horse but Grace remained on the ground, petting Tuula. 

"Do you believe in God, Arthur?"

"I don't know," he replied. "Do you?"

"No."

"Oh." He paused. "I thought you was praying a moment ago."

"Sort of. I was sparing some thoughts for the people who were imprisoned here." She mounted up. "Anyway, I'm sure you're tired of me by now."

"Nah."

"Really? Hm, I should try harder," she smiled slightly, "I'll see you around."

"Wait, where are you going?" 

"Blackwater. So you can't follow me there."

"Hold on, you can get into Blackwater without anyone suspectin' you, right?"

"Well, yeah. It may still be swarming with Pinkertons, but regular law-abiding citizens such as myself can still walk in without being hanged."

"We left a lot of money there."

"Where?"

"That's just it, I don't know," Arthur said, frustrated, "Dutch and Hosea, they kept a savings stash and when everything went to hell, we had to leave it behind."

Grace paused, thinking. "If you can find out where it is, I'll get it for you. Alternatively, you can just take the money I've been offering."

"It was a lot of money, saved up for years."

"How much?" 

"Not sure exactly, but Dutch had said that the ferry they robbed was carrying about $150,000."

"That's it?"

Arthur's eyes widened. "What do you mean 'that's it?'"

"You sure they were able to steal that much?" Grace ignored his remark. "That's a lot to hide, even if you got it in large bills."

"Well, we still got a lot of money there somewhere." 

"Hmm. Any general ideas where it could be?" 

"All I know is somewhere in town."

"Ah." Grace thought for a moment. "Well, I'll go poke around a bit. If I find it, I'll bring it to you."

"How do you know it'll be our money?"

"How many people are hiding $150,000 in Blackwater?" 

"Good point."

"I'll see what I can find," said Grace, turning towards the road to Blackwater, "See you around, Arthur."

Arthur waved goodbye and watched her until he couldn't see her any longer. What if she was able to find the money? If she did, they could finally escape and head west like the original plan. They actually had a chance. So why didn't he feel excited about it? He supposed it was a long shot that Grace would even find a penny of that money. 

He rode back to camp, arriving late at night. Most of the gang were asleep and Arthur was glad to be back in his usual cot. Before lying down, he looked at Mary's picture, as he always did before he went to sleep. If Grace found the money, maybe he could find Mary again and... well, and see what happens. 

  
The next morning, he overheard Micah talking to Dutch. 

"I think you misunderstood me earlier," Micah said, "I ain't trying to rob you. You know me better than that."

"What are you trying to do, Micah?" Dutch asked. 

"Save you, save everybody," Micah sighed, "I'll go back to Blackwater and get the money. Meet you all someplace and we'll be home free."

"I'm... I'll think about it," Dutch said after a moment. 

"Thank you," Micah said, "You're... I'll do whatever you say. Always." 

Arthur walked up, Micah smirking at him as he passed. Arthur shook his head and spoke to Dutch. 

"Don't you tell him a thing about that money."

"I ain't a fool, Arthur," Dutch said sternly. 

"I know, I just don't trust him," Arthur frowned in Micah's direction. He then considered telling Dutch about Grace, but decided against it. It wasn't often Arthur did anything behind Dutch's back, but he had the feeling this wouldn't bode well. "Well, I'll catch you later."

He wandered over to the chuckwagon to grab a cup of coffee with Abigail and Miss Grimshaw. It has been a while since he's done so. 

"Arthur!" Uncle called as he rushed up to Arthur. "Arthur, I bring you a gift," he said theatrically, "The gift... of information."

"So you got some tip off, so I can risk my neck and make you some money while you lounge around?" 

"I got a serious medical condition."

"Shame. Guess you'll have to find some other fool to run your errands."

"Bill! Charles!" Uncle called over the other two, "Will you be my other fool?"

"What are you talking about?" asked Bill. 

"Oh, Arthur's above a little stick-up I heard about," Uncle gestured to Arthur. 

"No, I'm not," Arthur protested. 

"But you just said--"

"Hey, I'll do it if you ride with us." Arthur, Bill, and Charles looked at Uncle for an answer. 

"Like I said, I have a medical condition. Very serious."

"Yeah, you're a compulsive liar," Arthur leaned against a tree. 

"No, uh, Charles! Have I ever lied to you?"

"I hardly know you," Charles frowned. 

"Exactly!" Uncle turned back to Arthur, "Now you boys should do this, it's easy. And I'll only take a small commission for my information, but it's now or never."

"Then it's never," Arthur started to walk away. 

"Oh, God help me, Fine. I'll do it," Uncle relented. 

"Well, what is it?" asked Arthur. 

"It's a supply wagon carrying payroll, but very briefly unguarded apparently as it passes through a crossroads near here where there's an old ruined church before it connects with the rest of the wagon train. Very easy pickings."

"As long as we get paid or you get shot, I'm happy," Arthur said as they headed to their horses and rode out. 

  
_It was a goddamn Cornwall payroll. Just when we thought we might have shaken the man, we robbed one of his damn wagons. The guards rode up just as we finished taking the money and we rode to an old barn at that Compson place to hide. They still found us and we had to run into the woods. Killed the lot of them and split up. Already sent the horses out so it would've been a long walk back...._

  
"Getting into trouble again, Mr. Morgan?" 

Arthur spun around with his gun ready, but lowered it at the sight of Grace and Tuula. "Jesus, wish you'd stop doing that."

"Nah, where's the fun in that?" She smiled at him. 

"I could've shot you!" 

"Could've, but you didn't," she said. "So what happened?" 

"Had a tip of some payroll moving through," he replied, "turns out it was goddamn Cornwall's payroll."

"You really have a thing for robbing the guy, don't you?"

"It wasn't supposed to happen!"

"Lots of things aren't supposed to happen."

"Yeah."

"Need a ride back?"

"Sure." Arthur jumped on Tuula behind Grace, "Head north a bit, they may still be looking for us." 

"Sure." She turned Tuula north and nudged her into a canter. "So why are you robbing a payroll coach when I said I'd look for your money?"

"It wasn't my idea! Uncle had a tip and thought it was good. Besides, I don't think it would look good if I flat out refused, or if I said you were looking for the money."

"That's true. They wouldn't trust me." She paused. "I think I found it, though."

"You did? Where?"

"Churchyard."

"And you didn't bring it back?"

"I'd have to dig up a grave."

"Wait, what?" That can't be right. 

"Did you know Dutch's mother is buried in Blackwater?" 

"Yeah, he mentioned it but he said he hadn't visited it."

"Well someone has. Looks like someone had dug in there recently." 

Arthur frowned. Could she be right? He hated to ask. "So, could you find out if the money is in there?"

"You mean dig it up? I was going to, but a bunch of Pinkertons seem to have chosen a site just outside of the churchyard fence to set up camp."

"Damn it."

"You know, it's getting a bit difficult misleading the Pinkertons with all of you constantly getting into trouble."

"Yeah, sorry."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Are you sorry?"

"I suppose I should be."

"But you're not." Grace turned Tuula down the dried up bed of Dewberry Creek where they had met the German family. 

"Y'know, this was supposed to be our new spot until we went and found that German feller," he said. 

"Here?" she slowed Tuula to a walk. "Whose dumb idea was that?"

"Micah's."

"And whose dumb idea was it to agree?"

"Dutch's."

"Why does Dutch like Micah so much?"

"Who knows, Micah's just been a liability ever since we picked him up."

"And yet Dutch seems to go with all of his stupid ideas."

"Yeah."

"Be careful."

"I am."

"Uh huh." She clearly didn't believe him. She urged Tuula back into a canter and didn't stop until they were closer to the path to Clemens Point. "Well, here we are."

"Thanks," Arthur dismounted.

"You know, I tried paying off your bounty," Grace said. 

"You what?"

"I tried to pay it off. Even offered them double. But they refused. I guess they really want to see you all swing." 

"Well, uh, thanks for trying, I guess," Arthur stammered. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The price on his head alone was five thousand, Dutch and Hosea's even moreso. And she offered to pay double that? 

"Any time. See you around." She cantered away. 

Arthur stayed where he was for a moment before heading down the path. She actually had that much money? Maybe he should take her up on her offer. But if he did, he'd have to explain how he got the money, and how could he be sure that the others wouldn't try to get more out of her? Not that he even knew where to find her anyway. 

"You're back!" Uncle greeted him, a bottle of beer in his hand, "Toldja it was good!"

"Get away from me, you drunk, I'm going to bed," Arthur passed him. 

"Oh, spoilsport!"

Arthur lay on his cot, wondering what he should do. He slowly fell asleep feeling strangely alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waziya is from Lakota lore. How heartbroken were you when you figured out what that note actually said? 
> 
> Who has more money, Grace or the Blackwater stash? Place your bets.


	14. Hockey Night in Ambarino

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After marching with the suffragettes and finding some treasure, Arthur and Grace go skating and play hockey. 
> 
> A self-indulgent chapter to warm my hockey-loving Canadian heart. More good times before worse things start happening.

_I met this poor bastard Gray boy - Beau - and his forbidden love - Miss Penelope - quite the most alive creature we have met down here._

_Suddenly, I'm marching as a suffragette. The looks of loathing on the faces of the locals delighted me while their leader - a Mrs Calhoun amused me. I don't know much about good causes, nor the joys of democracy, but I enjoyed my little experience riding alongside them._

_World is certainly changing fast._

  
As Arthur drove the wagon of suffragettes into Rhodes, he saw Grace and Tuula near the train station. He waved and she hitched Tuula and came over. 

"What is happening here?" she asked. 

"Women's rights or something," he replied, "I kinda got roped into driving their wagon in."

"That's awfully nice of you. How much they paying?" she grinned. 

"Very funny," he said. Mrs. Calhoun was on the steps of the bank and began her speech. As she did, a couple of large men pushed past Arthur and Grace and over to Beau Gray. Penelope watched for a moment, then turned to Arthur. 

"Go help Beau!" she begged, "His cousin is a moron, and stop them from ruining the speech!" 

Arthur nodded and led Beau away from his cousins without incident. They rode out to the old war battlefield where Beau paid him for delivering the letters to and from Penelope. 

"Thank you!" Beau said once again before riding away. 

Arthur shook his head at the ridiculousness of the boy and mounted his horse. 

"There you are," Grace trotted up on Tuula. 

"You didn't want to stay for the speeches?" he asked. 

"Oh, it's nothing I haven't heard before," she said, "Equal rights for all, women are just as good as men, blah, blah, blah." 

"So you don't believe in it?"

"Of course I do, it just gets tiresome after so long," she shrugged, "Have you been to Saint Denis?" Arthur shook his head. "There's a woman who shows up in the square every day campaigning for the women's right to vote. Sometimes I'll stand with her, holding one of her signs, but most of the time she's completely alone."

"Sounds like a waste of time to me," said Arthur. 

"To you, maybe, but I think the world could be a better place if men would stop being such pigs and let women have their say."

"Ha, you may be on to something there," he gestured to the battlefield remains, "Maybe all this wouldn't have happened."

"Gosh, I haven't seen anything like this in a long time," Grace said, "I remember when you couldn't see the ground for all the bodies. So many young men, too."

"What do you mean you remember? The war was over thirty years ago," Arthur frowned. 

"Oh, I meant I remember someone telling me," she said quickly, "This was only one in many, many battlegrounds of that war. The 1812 war was pretty nasty too."

"1812? You a history buff or something?"

"Or something." She looked around sadly. "So, while it's important to remember the past, can we go somewhere a bit nicer?"

"What, like the undertaker's?"

"Perfect," she laughed, "Nah, I know somewhere else." She turned and rode back towards town, but bypassed Rhodes. They ended at a hill that had a rock formation in it that looked like a face. 

"This looks familiar," Arthur said as he halted Smokey next to Tuula. 

"They call it Face Rock because, well, you can see why," Grace dismounted, "But I like to sit up here sometimes." She climbed up the hill above the rocks and sat down. "So you met the county's Romeo and Juliet, huh?"

"He was just telling me they had to keep their relationship a secret."

"Yes, very secret," she laughed, "It is sweet, though. Let's just hope their story has a happier ending."

"Yeah." Arthur went silent. This Face Rock was bugging him. He was sure he'd seen it somewhere before. A picture, or a drawing. 

"What's wrong?"

"Hm?"

"You look kinda angry but you don't know why."

"I saw this rock somewhere and I'm trying to remember where."

"You might have passed it during your many travels and just didn't pay much attention."

"I don't know, it's-- oh! I know what it is," he dug into his satchel until he found a folded, crumpled piece of paper, "I found this in Flaco Hernandez's cabin." He unfolded it and tapped the drawn picture of Face Rock. Grace looked at it. 

"Oh, like a treasure map!" She looked at the map then down the hill. "Over there, maybe there's something there!" She excitedly rushed down the hill to a tree stump as depicted on the map and stopped. "Oh, it's yours, so you do the honours."

"How about you look?"

Grace grinned and shoved her hand in the tree stump. She took out a lockbox which contained a small stack of bills, some jewelry and another map. She handed them all to Arthur. 

"Don't even think of sharing the loot," Grace warned him. "Except the location of the next one."

Arthur opened the map and saw a strange serpentine shape that had a pile of rocks in its furthest coil. "Well, I don't know what to make of that."

"Hmm, neither do I," she said, "Maybe there's a giant snake somewhere that guards the treasure."

"Ha, ridiculous."

"Well if you have any better ideas, let's hear them."

"I got nothing." 

"Darn, I was hoping we could go out treasure hunting, but I guess it is getting late," she looked towards the setting sun. 

"Where are you staying?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," she smiled at him. "See you around, Arthur."

  
A few days later, Strauss returned from a trip to the Rhodes post office with a parcel for Arthur. 

"Whatever it is, it is quite heavy," said Strauss, "I hope if it is gold, you will share."

"Now who on earth would be sending me gold?" Arthur asked. Strauss shrugged and wandered back to his table. Arthur took the parcel over to his cot, set it down and opened it. 

"What in the--" Arthur said quietly as he saw a pair of brand new ice skates inside. A note lay on top of them. 

  
_Dear Arthur,_

_Ever heard of ice hockey? Let's go. Barrow Lagoon, as soon as you can get away._

_-Grace_

  
Ice hockey? What the hell is that? No matter, he was kind of itching to get out of camp for a while, even if he had to go back to the mountains. He packed the skates into his saddlebags, announced he would be gone for a few days, and rode out. 

When he finally arrived at the frozen lake, Grace was already skating about but this time she had a stick with a bend in it and hitting a small object on the ice back and forth with it. She spotted Arthur and waved. 

"Did you get them?" she asked with a big smile. 

"Why the hell did you send me ice skates?"

"So you can try skating too, it's fun!" Grace said, "I've gotten so much better. Watch this." She skated backward, then did a hop from one foot to the other and turning so she was skating forward again. 

"Wow, so what's with the stick?"

"Hockey stick, ever seen an ice hockey match?" Arthur shook his head. "I saw a match in Montreal, up in Canada. Terribly exciting. They can skate almost as fast as horses!"

"Jesus."

"I know, right? So come on, get your skates on, let's go!" Grace said excitedly. 

"I won't be very good."

"So? I wasn't when I started. I'll teach you. Once you get the hang of it, it's fun." 

Arthur sighed and rode his horse to Tuula by the cabin. He dismounted and took out the ice skates, looking at them curiously. 

"They go on like regular shoes," Grace said, having followed him over. Arthur nodded, sat on a boulder by the ice, removed his boots and pulled the skates on. 

"How did you get my size?"

"I guessed, actually," she shrugged, "Do they fit okay?"

"Yeah, just fine," he tied the laces and put his feet on the ice. Almost immediately, they slid in opposite directions. 

"Here, hang on," Grace set her stick down and offered her hands to him. He took them in his. "You're going to stand slowly and you have to stand up straight. Okay? One, two, three!" 

Arthur stood up a bit too fast and ended up falling on top of Grace on the ice. 

"Ouch!"

"Damn, sorry," he said, kneeling up and helping her, "Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, I've fallen loads of times," she said. "In fact, I'm wearing extra undergarments as padding. Well, let's try it again!" 

After many more falls, Arthur finally got the hang of skating slowly on the ice. Stopping was a bit more difficult, and even though Grace tried to teach him, he decided it was just easier to let himself either slow to a stop or just bump into her. 

"See, I told you it was fun!" Grace said, skating in a circle around Arthur. 

"I guess it is," he admitted. 

"Soon you'll be an ice hockey star! Then they'll make cigarette cards of you!" 

"Ha, yeah, I'll give up my life of thieving and just spend it all on the ice."

"You could, you know." She skated to the edge of the lake, picked up two hockey sticks, and handed one to Arthur. "Or at least, you could try."

"You do make me laugh the way you talk sometimes," he looked over the stick. 

"Yeah, anyway, time to learn to play ice hockey," she said, sliding over the wooden disk with her stick. "This is a puck. They use rubber ones in big matches, but this will do. The idea is to get the puck into the goal. I don't have proper posts so I used rocks instead." She pointed down the ice to where she had placed a couple of large rocks about six feet apart. 

"Seems easy enough."

"Only because it's just us two and not two whole teams plus goalminders," she said. 

"Goalminders?"

"They stand in front of the net and stop the puck from going in. There is also point and cover-point, those defend the goalminder and goalposts. Then there's the centre and left- and right-wings, they score the goals, or at least try to. And finally there's the rover who skates around and assists with either scoring or defending."

"So which one would you be?"

"Hm, I think I'd like to be a centre. Or a winger. I like scoring goals." She looked Arthur up and down for a moment. "You would be a rover. You're intimidating enough to step in as point and stop the other team from getting closer to the goal, as well as break through the other teams points to score goals."

"Not a goalminder?"

"Nah, they have to stay in one spot and I can't see you doing that." She tapped her stick against the ice. "Okay, enough talk, let's play some hockey!"

Arthur hated to admit it, but it was fun. Hours later, they had lost track of who scored the most goals (probably Grace since she was the better skater and she also used her skirt to stop the puck from going in), and he had gotten better at skating. He even managed to stop on his own a few times. 

He didn't realise they had been skating for so long when the sun started to set. His toes were frozen along with his boots, which had been sitting on the snow since he arrived. Walking after skating was weird. His legs still wanted to glide, even though he was walking. Grace had already dashed into the cabin to stoke the fire. 

"Here," she passed him a thick pair of socks when he entered the cabin then sat on a chair with her socked feet on a stool in front of the firestove. 

"Thanks," he removed his boots and pulled the socks on, warm from staying by the stove all day. He sat down on another chair, flexing his toes to feel them again. After a few minutes, Grace stood and placed a small pot on the stove, poured some water in, and then dumped a bag of something in.

"Rabbit stew," she said, seeing Arthur's questioning look. "I put together the meat and things before I came up. Every time I've been here before, I hated having to prepare my dinner after skating so much."

"So how many times have you been here?"

"Many," she stirred the stew, "I've lost track."

"No problems with bears? Or wolves?" he asked, remembering the battle between the grizzly and the wolves the first time they were here. 

"They've been around, but they ignore me for the most part. I just skate back here when they get a bit too close to the ice."

"Well, you seem pretty handy with a bow and arrow, at least."

"I rarely use it to defend myself," she shrugged, "I find with animals that if you leave them alone, they'll leave you alone."

"Except that cougar," Arthur inwardly shuddered, thinking back to when he nearly had his own face eaten by the big cat. 

"Hey, you two encroached on her home, of course she was going to attack."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." 

Grace finished cooking the stew and ladled it out into two bowls. She handed one to Arthur along with a spoon then sat down herself. They ate in silence. 

"So, I think I know where to find that treasure," she said after a few minutes. 

"Oh yeah? Where?"

"Over near Van Horn. There's a mound formation there in the shape of a snake."

"And you didn't look for the treasure yourself?"

"I don't like being out there for too long," she shuddered, "There's a group out there, called the Murfree Brood. Nasty bunch of men, they kidnap people. Or rather, they kill the men and kidnap the women and girls."

"Jesus, well, you stay away from that area." 

"Oh, I plan on it," she said, "Much prefer to be up here." 

"I can tell," Arthur finished up his stew and looked around the cabin. Grace had tidied and rearranged it. She had removed the top bunk of the bunk beds and built a second bed that lined up with the bottom bunk. She had fixed up the table and chairs so they didn't wobble so much. A shelf at the back of the cabin held some different sized pots and dishes. Below the shelf was a closed trunk. 

"Like what I did to the place?" she asked, noticing him looking. 

"Better than what it was before."

"And you get your own bed," she pointed at the new bed. "I brought up extra blankets so we don't need to share." 

"Oh. Good." 

"You should take Mary skating."

"What? Why?"

"Because it's fun? You can impress her with your skating skills."

"Nah, I don't think I'd do that."

"Why not? You could take her skating and hold her hand so she doesn't fall."

"If you've sent her ice skates..." Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"I don't know where she is."

"But if you did..."

"If I did, I'd tell you." Grace looked at him for a moment. "I know you've said it's in the past, but why can't it be in the future?"

"Why do you care?"

"I just want to see you happy."

"Huh."

"Anyway, it's getting late. I'm going to bed." She crawled into one of the beds and pulled the blankets up. 

Arthur imagined what it would be like, taking Mary skating. Would she even enjoy it? It would be fun. He did enjoy himself immensely skating with Grace and he realised he had forgotten about all his problems, even for a little while. But as much fun as it was, he did need to return to camp and help out with whatever scheme Hosea and Dutch have been cooking up. 

He sat on the other bed, taking in the sight of his and Grace's skates by the firestove and the hockey sticks leaning against the wall by the door. Hopefully they can do this again sometime. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur would have killed it as a hockey player.


	15. The Good Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur robs a bank, Grace gets shot, and they meet a doctor in need.

Arthur woke to find himself alone in the cabin again. Grace's skates and hockey stick were gone so he assumed she was out on the lake. A look out the window confirmed it. He went outside and watched her for a bit. It was peaceful and quiet. She didn't seem to notice him yet as she glided along the ice, her stick in one hand. He took out his portable camera and walked closer to the edge of the ice. He took a picture just as she turned towards him. 

"Good morning, Arthur!" she waved and skated over, "Oo, is that a camera?"

"Yeah," he said, holding it up. 

"How does it fit in your satchel?" 

"Our cook, Pearson, is a wonder with leatherwork," he said, putting the camera away. 

"Wow, you've got all sorts in your family, huh?"

"Why do you call them that?" 

"Well, they are, aren't they? They may not be blood relatives, but they're family all the same."

"Yeah, you're right, a very dysfunctional family, but family nonetheless."

"So you want to do some more skating, or just head out?"

"Sure, why not," he agreed. Grace smiled widely as he returned to the cabin to retrieve his skates. 

After skating for an hour, they decided it was time to head out. They left their skates at the cabin - Grace said they were probably the only ones crazy enough to keep coming back - and rode out. 

"So what will you be doing when you get back?" she asked as they rode out of the snow. 

"I don't know yet," Arthur shrugged, "Whatever Dutch or Hosea have cooked up, I suppose."

"Involving lies and robbery and possible murder?"

"Hopefully more the former than the latter."

Grace smiled slightly but didn't reply. She was silent for a few minutes before speaking again. "What if I gave you a tip on a place?"

"What sort of tip?"

"A place to rob."

"This ain't like you," he narrowed his eyes slightly. 

"You barely know me."

"I know you enough," he said, "So what is it?"

"Cabin near the east Grizzlies, in Cumberland Forest. Up a hill in the woods."

"Who lives there?"

"There's a lot of money in a trunk under the bed," she ignored the question. 

"Yeah, but--"

"You can get out. Go north to Canada, head west there. Lots of open space, good to get lost in."

"Wait, this cabin, is it yours?"

"Does it matter if there's a lot of money to be taken?" she halted at the crossroads and turned to him. "Look, I don't know what you've got planned between the Grays and the Braithwaites, but it's not going to end well. All you have to do is go to that cabin, get the money, and get out."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Well, what are you going to do without that money?"

"I'll be fine," she shrugged. "I have some other things to do, so off you go." She nudged Tuula to the left and cantered away, leaving Arthur feeling a bit confused. Why on earth does she want him to rob her? Even if she had all that money, how could she survive without it?

He rode back to camp, trying to decide whether or not to check out the cabin at all. He had barely dismounted when Hosea approached. 

"So what she send you?" he asked Arthur. 

"Who?"

"That girl from the saloon. I saw her bringing a parcel in to the post office the other day and then Strauss brings in the same parcel to you?" Hosea said, "I may be getting on in years, but I can still see."

Arthur looked around to see if anyone else was nearby, then spoke quietly. "It was ice skates."

"Ice skates?" Hosea said loudly and Arthur hushed him. "Didn't know you were much of a skater."

"Ha, I ain't."

"Didn't think you had it in you," Hosea chuckled, "So who is she?"

"Her name is Grace," Arthur said, "She's the one who saved John and Jack."

"She was the one who rode into the water?" Hosea's eyes widened, "Glad she got out okay. Anything else we should know?"

"She's been misleading the Pinkertons."

"Has she? Huh, I was wondering why I heard they were heading back north towards Colter after we moved here," Hosea paused. "Do you think we could use her?"

"I don't know. She might not like it."

"Even though she's misleading Pinkertons?"

"She's... well, she's a strange one."

"Hm, well let me give it some thought," Hosea started walking away, "Oh, and Karen wanted to speak with you." 

"Sure." Arthur headed over to where Karen was speaking with Bill and Lenny. 

"There you are!" she greeted him. 

"We got something cooking you might be interested in," said Bill. 

  
_Hit the bank in Valentine with Bill, Lenny, and Karen. They been planning it since we was at Horseshoe, but then we had to leave after the commotion we caused with Cornwall's men. Went in quiet and left quiet and everything was going to plan until we was almost out._

  
Arthur followed Karen, Lenny, and Bill out of the bank and towards their horses. No one paid any attention and it looked like they were in the clear. Arthur happened to look across towards the sheriff's and saw Grace talking with one of the deputies. He hoped she wouldn't turn around and see him. 

"Oh my god, someone's robbed the bank!" someone yelled from down the road. The deputy and Grace looked down towards the bank.

"Look, over there!" Lenny pointed to a few lawmen just riding up. 

"Shit!" Bill and Karen started firing. One of the bullets hit Grace in the back and she fell to the ground. 

"Goddamn it!" Arthur yelled. Grace didn't move, but he couldn't check on her himself. He followed the others to their horses, mounted and galloped out of Valentine. Lawmen followed close behind, but thanks to a whole lot of well-aimed bullets and a perfectly-timed train, the four managed to lose them. 

They halted down the path in the woods. Arthur divided the take silently. 

"Thank you, gentlemen," laughed Karen as she took her cut. "That was --"

"Stupid and dangerous," said Arthur, "Thank you, Bill." he passed Bill his take. 

"We're alive and we're paid," Bill said happily. "I don't see the problem."

"We could've gotten out if you hadn't started shooting," Arthur snapped.

"Aw, it was fun," Karen said, as Arthur handed Lenny his take. 

"I suppose," Arthur sighed. "Now go on, get out of here, and don't go straight to camp." He watched the others ride away. He wanted to return to Valentine, to see if Grace was alright, but he knew he couldn't. Besides, it was unlikely she would have been able to survive the gunshot. 

  
Over the next few days, Arthur tried to put Grace's possible demise out of his head. He stole some horses from the Braithwaites along with Javier and John and rescued Trelawny from some bounty hunters. He wondered if he should ride out to Grace's cabin, but he didn't know exactly where it was. 

"Arthur!" Trelawny approached, "Arthur, I have something you might be interested in."

"What is it?" 

"Meet me at the train station in Rhodes. I have a friend there." 

"If he's a friend of yours, I don't know if I wanna meet him."

"Very funny, dear boy, I'll see you there." 

Arthur shook his head and mounted his horse. If he was going to meet Trelawny and a friend of Trelawny's, he was going to need a drink first. He trotted into Rhodes, intending on going straight to the saloon. 

"Good morning, Arthur." 

"Jesus!" Arthur yanked the reins, startled. Smokey threw his head up in annoyance. "Sorry, boy," he patted him and turned to see Grace rising from a bench in the square. "Grace! You're okay!"

"Of course I am," she said. Arthur frowned. She didn't look okay. She was so pale she was nearly grey. Her eyes had large dark circles around them like she hadn't slept in days. 

"You sure about that?"

"Yes."

"Where's your horse?" he looked around for Tuula but couldn't spot her. 

"I left her to graze by the caravans," she pointed, "She gets too kick-happy if I hitch her anywhere for too long. So what brings you into Rhodes today?"

"Just in town for a quick drink."

"Like the quick drinks you've had in Valentine?"

"Ha, no, I better stay mostly sober. I'm meeting a friend here and I prefer to have a drink or two in me when dealing with him."

"Oh, well, don't let me keep you," she started walking down the road. Arthur dismounted and caught up to her. 

"You sure you're okay?" 

"Of course," she smiled, "I don't think I'm supposed to look all that good after being shot in the back."

"I'm real sorry about that."

"You didn't shoot me."

"How do you know that?" 

"Because I know you well enough." She paused as they kept walking. "So you robbed the bank then? Instead of taking my money?"

"Well, they had that planned since before we moved camp," Arthur said, "It wasn't really my thing."

"Uh huh. So how much did you get?" 

"Twenty-five grand altogether."

"Not bad. So you can all leave now, right?"

"Well, not yet, Dutch says we still need more."

"How much more do you need?"

"I don't know."

Grace shook her head. "Seems like it will never be enough."

"Yeah, it does seem that way."

"Hey, look at the fella over there," Grace pointed down the road to a black man in a brightly coloured jacket and vest sitting by a fence. 

"So?"

"Looks kinda out of place. Let's see if he's okay." They approached the man and Grace greeted him. "Hello, sir, how are you today?"

The man looked at her and Arthur in surprise. "You need me to move?"

"Move?" Arthur asked. 

"Am I sitting in the wrong place?" the man asked nervously. 

"No, of course not," said Grace. 

"I didn't mean any offense, ma'am."

"But--"

"I'm very sorry, sir and madam. You have yourselves a fine day," the man stood up and started to quickly walk away, "and I apologise for any offense I may have inadvertently caused." 

"How could you have offended us?" Arthur called after him. 

The man turned back to them. "I have no idea. But I had no idea how I offended the last fellers and they stole my wagon on account of my impudence."

"They stole your wagon for that?" Grace asked. 

"They didn't like my medical practice, I suppose," he said, "Didn't like that I was undercutting the competition. Or I was too coloured."

"Well, wearing that jacket, tie, and vest..." Grace said, but stopped when the man glared. "Sorry. Well that isn't very nice of them to steal your wagon since you're out here helping people." 

"That was my impression," the man said, "Still, compared to the guttin', castration, defenestration and crucifixion they offered me, I felt I got off lightly."

"Imaginative bunch," Arthur looked down the road, "Which way they go?"

"Down the road, that away," the man pointed. 

Arthur nodded. "Stay here. And while you're waiting, could you have a look at her?" He pointed to Grace. 

"I'm fine," she protested. 

"Good lord, please sit down," the man said, "I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner." Grace narrowed her eyes at Arthur and sat down. 

"I'll be back."

Arthur mounted his horse and followed the road out. He asked a few passersby of the wagon's location and they directed him to a place called Macomb's End. The wagon thieves weren't too willing to give it back, but they did end up dead. 

He drove the wagon back to Rhodes where Grace and the man were talking. 

"Well, look who it is," the man greeted Arthur with a smile, "I did not count on seeing that wagon again."

"I told you he'd get it back for you,' said Grace. 

"So how is she?" Arthur asked the man. 

"Stop talking like I'm not here," Grace crossed her arms. 

"A bit of a fever, but otherwise healthy as a horse," he said. 

"You know she was shot a few days ago, or did she not tell you that?"

"You were?" the man turned back to Grace, "Good lord, why didn't you tell me?"

"It's fine," she shrugged, "It's already been looked at."

"By a proper doctor? Don't want it getting infected or gangrenous."

"I'm fine, really," Grace insisted. 

"Well, if you say so, ma'am," he turned to Arthur, "It wasn't a trouble now, was it?" 

"No, it was a pleasure." 

"Well, let me give you something for your pleasure," he opened the back of his wagon, retrieved a book, and handed it to Arthur, "Provide a man a tincture, he'll be well for a day. Teach him to make one, he might be well a while longer. And," he reached back into his wagon and took out a small bottle, "A little something for the lady. To help you get throught he day."

"Thank you, Dr. Renaud," Grace took the bottle from him. 

"Right, my apologies, forgot introductions," he held out his hand to Arthur, "Dr. Alphonse Renaud." 

"Arthur Morgan," he shook the doctor's hand. 

"Well thank you, Arthur Morgan, and if you see me on my travels and you're in need of something, come and say hello," Dr. Renaud climbed into the driver's seat of his wagon. 

"Travel safe now," Arthur said as he and Grace waved goodbye. 

"Nice man, but I guess he won't be spending too much time down here," said Grace, "You still meeting that friend of yours?"

"Oh, right," Arthur had forgotten all about Trelawny, "I better go do that. Are you sure you'll be okay?" 

"Yes, Arthur, I'll be right as rain soon enough." 

"Do you want a ride back to your horse?"

"That won't be necessary." She whistled loudly and a few moments later, Tuula was galloping down the main road towards them. She mounted up. "See you around." She cantered away. 

Instead of meeting Trelawny right away, Arthur sat down to think. What was wrong that she's grey and sickly-looking one day and a few days later, she's as healthy as ever? He couldn't think of anything, he wasn't a doctor. He took out the book Dr. Renaud had given him and wondered if there was anything in there that could help her. He flipped through it, but decided to read it more thoroughly later. Right now he had a con artist to meet. 


	16. Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grace and Arthur finally meet Black Belle, and a meeting with Colm O'Driscoll goes badly.

Trelawny had introduced Arthur to a station clerk named Alden who gave them a tip on a coach robbery. Trelawny put on quite the performance in order to stop the coach which allowed Arthur to sneak around the back and loot the lockbox. The woman they robbed was fantastically wealthy but a horrible singer, so they reasoned it evened out. 

Upon returning to camp, Arthur flipped through his journal and realised he hadn't yet gone to see Black Belle. He decided to go first thing the next morning, providing no one else needed him for something. 

Arthur rode out early, intending to get to Bluewater Marsh as soon as possible. He hoped that Black Belle was still there, it has been a while since he received the photos from that Levin fellow. He was about to cross a bridge to the marsh when he heard someone calling him. He turned to see Grace cantering towards him. 

"What are you doing here?" he asked when she caught up. 

"Following you, of course," she joked, "I was just heading to Saint Denis. How about you?"

"Was going to see Black Belle," he said, "You still want to to come along?"

"Sure, but I thought you already went ages ago."

"Nah, I decided not to then. Just hope she's still there." They rode across the bridge and headed east. "You look much better today," he said, noting how much healthier she was from a few days ago.

"I feel much better," she replied, "It usually takes a few days to recover."

"So what exactly is wrong with you?" he asked, "I mean, what's wrong that you go all grey like that?"

"I hate it out here," Grace said, ignoring the question and looking through the trees, "There's talk of these people called Nite Folk. Very few ever survive meetings with them, and those who do are usually too traumatised to give many details."

"I guess they mostly come out at night?" Arthur decided not to press the issue of Grace's health. 

"Sometimes. And other times they set up traps out here. So if you hear anyone calling for help or anything? Be very careful."

"I usually am."

"I've noticed," she smiled over at him. 

"So I think this might be where Black Belle is," he said when they arrived at a shack in the swamp. They dismounted and headed down the boardwalk. The door opened and the barrel of a repeater poked out. 

"You there!" a woman called out. Grace and Arthur stopped, raising their hands slowly. 

"Uh, hello?" Arthur greeted her. 

"You a bounty hunter?" 

"Not right now, I ain't, and neither is she," said Arthur, gesturing to Grace. "You Black Belle? I'd like to talk to you about your wild west days."

"I don't care much for reminscing," Black Belle emerged slowly, still keeping her gun aimed at them. "You got any friends is bounty hunters?"

"Uh, no."

"Well then you done lead them boys here and you none the wiser," she nodded to the road. Grace and Arthur looked to see a few men on horses riding up. "Knew my luck'd run out sooner or sooner."

"Get inside, we'll tell 'em you're gone," Arthur said. 

"Oh no, I ain't hiding from them scalp hunters and not running from 'em neither." 

"Well, let us know what we can do." 

"You want that wild west story, don't you?"

"Yes, I do."

"Alright, get up here quick," she moved aside to let Grace and Arthur up onto the porch. "You ain't got a gun, sweetheart?" she asked Grace. 

"No, ma'am," Grace replied. 

"Well then, when I give you the word, hit that," Black Belle pointed to a plunger attached to the railing. Grace nodded and stood by the plunger. "Whole place is wired." 

Black Belle and Arthur readied their guns as the bounty hunters arrived at the boardwalk. 

"Black Belle!" one of them shouted, "I got a contract here for your life or your liberty and we'd sooner it be liberty." 

"That's mighty reasonable, mister," Black Belle called out, "Come here, let me take a look at it." The bounty hunter walked slowly closer as Black Belle urged him on. "Stop, just there!" The bounty hunter did so, confused. Black Belle turned to Grace. "Now, set it off!"

Grace pushed the plunger and an explosion sent the bounty hunter into the air, killing him instantly. She immediately took cover as the others started shooting. 

"Hit that plunger if you wanna see 'em fly!" Black Belle shouted towards Grace, who realised she was next to another plunger. Grace pushed it and killed the other bounty hunters with another explosion. 

More bounty hunters rushed in. Arthur and Black Belle shot at them, rushing to the side of the shack. "We're rigged over here too!" Black Belle shouted. Grace ran over and hit another plunger, setting off another explosion. Black Belle and Arthur shot the survivors and they rushed back to the front where a wagon had driven up with a machine gun on the back. 

"See there, a Gatling!" Black Belle shouted, "that's a gun you fight an army with, not a goddamn widow!" 

Grace kept low as she crept to the other side of the porch. Arthur and Black Belle were still shooting and the gatling gunner was distracted with them. Grace took out a knife, stood, and threw it, killing him. She crouched back out of sight as Arthur and Black Belle finished off the rest of them. 

"Whew! Is that the last of 'em?" Black Belle asked, looking around. 

"Yep, you got them scalp hunters off your back," said Arthur. 

"For now," she went back into her shack. 

"So you gonna tell me about your wild west days?" Arthur followed her, "Running with Jim Boy Calloway?"

"Little Boy Calloway? Hah, the only running he did was away from a fight, and that's about the end of it." 

"Well the man's apparently a famous gunslinger."

"Yeah, so they say," Black Belle picked up a sack, "But don't get what's famous confused with what's true. The ones of us that lived that life we was too busy being scared for our scalp to talk to no newspaper writers or dime novel men." She paused and looked at Grace. "You know, you look mighty familiar."

"I do?" Grace asked. 

"Let me think, you remind me of a young gal Colter Tobin met and asked to run with us, what was her name," Black Belle thought for a moment, "Ah, yes, little Gracie. Sweet, young thing, too good to be runnin' with a buncha outlaws."

"Well, uh, my name is Grace," she said quietly. 

"Huh, well ain't that a coincidence," Black Belle said, "Well you obviously ain't her because that was a long time ago." 

"And what were those days like then? The ones they all talk about," asked Arthur.

"Same as now, I guess, only longer ago," Black Belle said, carrying her sack and her gun out to her horse. 

"Heh, alright," said Arthur as he and Grace followed, "I'm gonna need your picture too, if it ain't a trouble?"

"No, sir, no trouble at all," she said, throwing her sack on the back of her horse. Arthur snapped a picture of Black Belle posing with her gun. 

"Well, thank you, Mrs. Belle, you gonna be alright?"

"Been running for twenty years, suppose I'll be running till I drop," she said, mounting her horse. She winked at Arthur and Grace and rode away. 

"It's funny, ain't it? Her knowing someone who looks like you with the same name?" Arthur said to Grace as they mounted their own horses. 

"Sure is," she replied, "You'd be astonished by the number of other women out there named Grace."

"Who look like you?"

"She said I reminded her of that Grace, not that I looked like her," Grace pointed out. "Anyway, thanks for bringing me along."

"You okay with killing them bounty hunters?" 

Grace shrugged, "Not particularly, but I guess it's preferable than being shot to pieces."

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"Anyway, I must be getting on before it gets too late."

"Wait, do you want me to come along?"

"I'm going to Saint Denis, it's the big city to the south, doesn't seem like somewhere you'd like much," she said. 

"Well, I could ride with you until we get there."

"To keep me safe, you mean?" she smiled at him. "I'll be fine, thank you. See you around, Arthur." She turned and trotted away. Arthur waited until she was far enough away and followed. Just to be sure. When she had reached the outskirts of the city - a dreadful looking place, he thought - he stopped, figuring she'd be okay, and returned to camp where he was approached by Micah. 

"Blessed are the peacemakers, Morgan, for they... well, however that goes." 

"Is that so?" Arthur rolled his eyes, "I'm not sure that line of thought serves you or me very well."

"Well that's because, cowpoke, you are a man of profoundly limited intelligence," said Micah, "While you and the old man and Dutch have been running around digging us ever deeper into shit, old Mr. Pearson might have gone and lightened the load a little." Micah called for Pearson and Dutch, who both came over. 

"Gentlemen," Dutch greeted them. 

"Tell them, fat man," said Micah. 

"It's peace, Dutch, the O'Driscolls, I mean, I think there's a way," Pearson started. 

"What on earth are you talking about?" asked Dutch. 

"Get the words out properly, fat man," Micah patted Pearson's shoulder in a very unassuring way. 

"I met a couple of the O'Driscoll boys on the road into town, things were about to get ugly, but you know how I am in a fight? Like a cornered tiger," Pearson pulled out his knife dramatically as Dutch, Micah, and Arthur looked unimpressed. "Heh, anyway, we got to talking and they suggested a parley to end things like gentlemen."

"Gentlemen?" Dutch scoffed, "Colm O'Driscoll? Have you lost your minds?"

"You're always telling us, Dutch, do what has to be done," said Micah, "but don't fight wars that ain't worth fighting."

"They want a parley?" Hosea interrupted, "It's a trap."

  
_Hosea was right. It was a trap. Whole thing was a set up to kidnap me, then lure all of the rest of us so we could get arrested and Colm could disappear away, us somehow carrying off his sin along with our own to the gallows._

_I escaped, but it weren't Dutch or any of them who came for me..._

  
Arthur had just finished cauterizing the shotgun wound in his shoulder when he heard shouting outside. He looked around the cellar for a weapon, but had only the file he had broken the shackles with. 

An explosion went off nearby, causing him to fall forward on the floor. He crawled to the wall closest to the cellar stairway and waited. Another explosion went off, followed by the sound of men screaming in pain and more shouting. More explosions, more shouting, more dying screams. Until finally it went quiet. 

Arthur heard the cellar door open and he readied the file. It may not be a good weapon, but it's the best he's got and if he was going to die, he was going to die fighting. 

"Arthur?"

"Grace," he laughed in relief, sliding down the wall. Grace appeared around the corner, covered in blood. 

"Oh god, what did they do to you?" she knelt by him, looking at the wound in his shoulder. 

"What happened to you?" 

"Never mind me," she said, "This isn't my blood. Can you stand? Or walk?"

"I can try," he slowly stood with her help and left the cellar. He stopped for a moment to take in the carnage around them. Bodies and body parts of O'Driscolls lay scattered around them. "Jesus."

"Come on, let's get to your horse," she urged him on. 

"Christ, they got my horse too?"

"He's okay, probably just confused as to where you are," she said. She helped him over to Smokey and Tuula, but he didn't have the strength to keep standing and fell to his knees. 

"I don't think I can," he groaned in pain. 

"Yes, you can," Grace said sternly. "But if you can't stand in order to get on your horse then we'll have to improvise."

Arthur had no idea what she meant and remained where he was. She retrieved his horse and moved him closer to Arthur. Then, somehow, Grace had Smokey lay on his side, his back facing Arthur. 

"Come on, just get one leg over," she instructed. He crawled over and managed to get one leg over the saddle. Grace then urged Smokey to stand, holding onto Arthur so he wouldn't fall out of the saddle. "Can you ride on your own?"

"I..." he started to black out, slumping forward. 

"Right, move back." He did so, barely. She climbed into the saddle in front of him and he wrapped his arms around her, leaning against her back. He didn't have the strength to stay upright. "Hold on, we'll get you home."

Arthur drifted in and out of consciousness as they rode in the darkness. But he knew he was safe. He didn't know how long it had been since he had taken his spot up on the ridge to oversee the meeting between Dutch and Colm. Dutch and Micah had Arthur guard the meeting, but the whole thing was a setup. Colm's boys got to Arthur first. 

But if things went wrong, he was to meet Dutch and Micah back at the crossroads. So why hadn't they come looking for him when he didn't show up? 

He felt his horse slow to a jog and then to a walk as he realised they had reached the path into camp. She halted and dismounted carefully. 

"This is where I leave you," she said. 

"No, don't go," he weakly reached for her. 

"It's okay, Arthur," she took his hand and kissed it, "You're home now." She urged his horse down the path and stayed behind. 

Arthur didn't say anything, he was in too much pain. When he reached the clearing, he didn't have the strength to remain on his horse anymore and fell to the ground. He could hear shouting and vaguely saw faces above him. But none of them were the one he wanted to see.

  
It took Arthur a few weeks to recover. When he felt well enough, he shaved off the beard he had been growing during his recovery and rode out. There was only so much of Pearson's apologies and Miss Grimshaw's mothering he could handle. Besides, he and his horse needed to stretch their legs. 

When they finally reached an open field, he urged his horse into a gallop. Smokey eagerly obeyed, doing a few small kicks as he did, happy to be back out. They slowed to a canter by the road and turned to run again, but a whistle interrupted them. 

"Arthur!" 

He turned until he saw her waving from a nearby hill. Grace had been painting on her easel again, with Tuula grazing nearby. She ran down the hill towards him. He dismounted, happy to see her as well. 

"How are you doing?"

"Oh, about as well as can be after being shot and tortured," he joked. 

"I'm glad to see you up and about," she said, "I was worried." 

"Yeah, you weren't the only one, but luckily we have good nurses in Miss Grimshaw and Miss Tilly."

"Oh good," she turned to his horse, "And how's old Smokey? Bet he's been itching to get out, huh?"

"Oh yeah, we both were." He paused a moment. "So how did you take out all them O'Driscolls?"

"Explosive arrows," she said, petting his horse, "I climbed a tree and shot from there. One of them spotted me, but he got an arrow to the face before he could tell anyone."

"Jesus," he said, impressed, "Don't suppose Colm O'Driscoll was one of them."

"Nah, he left long before I attacked. There were too many when he was there."

"He said he took me to lure Dutch and them in, hand us over to the law."

"Dutch wasn't coming."

"Of course he was going to come," Arthur said, "I'm sure he had a plan."

"Arthur, you were there for three days. That was more than enough time to plan something."

"Well, you don't know--"

"Colm was going to hand you over to the law. If it wasn't going to be Dutch, then it was going to be you."

"Goddamnit."

"You have to leave. All of you." 

"Why, do they know where we are?"

"I don't know, but you're all too deep in that stupid feud between the Grays and the Braithwaites, "she sighed, "If you don't leave now, someone is going to die."

"Nah, ain't no one gonna die."

"Yet you almost did," she took his hand, "I can't be there all the time. But you can still save them." She turned back up the hill, but he pulled her back. 

"Come back with me."

"I can't, Arthur," Grace pulled her hand away, "There's money at the pirate ship. Be safe." 

He watched as she returned to her painting easel, packed it up, and rode away. He felt a bit guilty. Even though she never said as much, he had a feeling she had never killed anyone before meeting him. And not only had she killed some bounty hunters while assisting Black Belle, but she also wiped out an entire O'Driscoll camp. For him. 

He rode back to Clemens Point. Pearson had just served up another batch of stew and as he ate, Arthur looked around at the others, wondering if she was right and whether one of them would die. But how could he convince them all to move on without finishing up with the Grays and the Braithwaites?

When he finished his stew, Arthur took the boat out to the island and headed to the wrecked ship. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, until he spotted the tricorn hat hanging just inside the hull. He removed it to reveal a large pouch which was quite hefty when he picked it up. Looking inside, there was a huge roll of bills. It was more than enough to get all of them out. 

But... he couldn't take it. If he did, and they left, would he ever see her again? He couldn't expect her to just follow them around, leaving money whenever they needed it. Could he? Nah, that was ridiculous. Besides, he'd have to explain how he got the money in the first place and no one was going to believe that there was that much money just lying around in a shipwreck. 

He replaced the pouch with a sigh and put the hat back over it. He rowed back to camp and waited to see what was next in the Gray-Braithwaite feud. 


	17. Lions and Tigers and Boozing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Grace go searching for some exotic animals, then go drinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is literally just me postponing the inevitable. You can probably just skip it altogether. I almost did, but I figured I already wrote it so here it is. 
> 
> And yes, I threw in my RDO character in here too.

_Met a fella called Miss Margaret. An animal trainer and showman or show-woman. Mistress of Danger. Quite a character. Wants me to find some missing animals._

  
Arthur left the strange man to find his missing zebra. It was last spotted somewhere southwest of Emerald Ranch. Shouldn't be too difficult to catch, Arthur thought. 

"Why didn't you take the money?"

He startled, nearly falling off his horse. Grace trotted up to him, frowning. 

"Why didn't you take the money?" she asked again. 

"Because..." Arthur stopped, not knowing what to say. "Because it's yours."

"Oh, for god's sake. I am GIVING it to you."

"And I said I ain't a charity!"

"Then steal it from my cabin then!"

"Is it stealing if you know about it?"

"Does it matter?" Grace shook her head and sighed. "So what are you up to?"

"Finding a zebra."

Grace stared at him, blinking. "Excuse me?"

"I am looking for a missing zebra."

"Have you tried Africa?"

"Hah, no, a lady animal wrangler who is really a man is missing a zebra."

She stared at him again for a moment. "Are you okay, Arthur? I mean, did you hit your head or something?"

"I'm serious," he chuckled, "I met a feller back there in a dress and a moustache claiming he's a lady animal wrangler and he's missing some animals."

"Okay, I need to come with you on this one," she said. 

They rode to the last location of the zebra and Arthur took out his binoculars for a look. 

"Over there, I found it," he pointed and passed his binoculars to Grace. 

"Are you serious?" Grace said after having a look, "That doesn't look like any zebra I've seen."

"You've seen real ones?"

"Oh yeah, I've been to Africa. Beautiful countries." She passed the binoculars back to him. "Well, let's go get this so-called zebra." 

They approached the 'zebra' slowly and quietly. They both jumped when it began braying and then realised it was a mule painted with stripes. 

"What they done to you?" Arthur asked incredulously as he dismounted to calm down the mule. 

"Jesus, poor thing," Grace shook her head as Arthur pet the mule, then wiped his hands on his pants when the paint transferred. He put a rope around its neck and they led it back to Margaret. 

"Good grief! You've found him! Our zebra!" Margaret greeted them dramatically. "And you've found a friend! Jolly good!" 

"He's as much a zebra as you are a lady animal wrangler," Arthur said, dismounting and leading the painted mule over. 

"Oh dear, you're missing the point, aren't you?" Margaret opened the back of one of the caravans and started looking around for something, "It's an illusion, a trick of the eye to bamboozle the sense, confound comprehension."

"Hoodwink your audience?" asked Arthur. 

"I suppose if they're blind," said Grace. 

"No one will pay for the truth," Margaret said, picking up a plank, "they only pay for deception." He dragged it over to the caravan. "What is the greater conjuring trick? Lassoing some poor beast on the plains of Mumbo jumbo land and shipping it here, so it can dance the polka, or turning, there in the glare of those arc lamps, something mundane into something extraordinary?"

"Well you certainly have that covered yourself," Grace said as Arthur led the mule into the caravan up the plank. 

"As long as you don't pay me with tickets to your show," said Arthur. 

"I don't know, I kind of want to see it now," Grace snorted. 

"Well, it's not everyone's cup of tea," said Margaret. 

"And speaking of my payment, "Arthur advanced on him. 

"Of course, of course, I shall make it worth your while, but first we shall need the whole menagerie back. My assistant's gone for the tiger, and taken our remaining lion in case it could lend a paw."

"A tiger? And a lion?" Grace's eyes widened. "Jesus christ." 

"Alright, we'll see what we can do," Arthur mounted up again and headed down the road where Margaret had pointed. 

"So the zebra is a mule, what do you think the tiger is? A house cat?" asked Grace. 

"I guess we'll see."

"Imagine taking a lion to find a tiger. Good lord."

"You seen many lions and tigers in Africa?"

"Lions, yes, tigers, not so much," she replied, "Tigers are from India, I think." 

"Huh, so how useful would a lion be in finding a tiger?"

"No idea, but I'm looking forward to finding out." 

  
_After hunting a zebra that was a donkey and a tiger that was a cougar and another lion that was just a dog - or I think that's right - I think I've lost track of the whole thing, and an assistant that's a real woman - Sally Nash- and him a strange English maniac in a dress pretending to be all that he isn't._

"You got word on that other lion?" Arthur demanded of Margaret. 

"Yes, yes I got word on the lion! Shit is the word! Someone saw him near Emerald Ranch." Margaret said theatrically. "As you know, we're lately very short on lions, so... I'd be very grateful." 

So now we need to find another lion," said Grace as they started out to Emerald Ranch. 

"Dog, you mean."

"Hopefully we find this one alive." 

When they arrived at Emerald Ranch, there seemed to be a commotion. Ranch hands were running about, speaking of getting their guns. Two were holding the barn doors closed. Grace and Arthur dismounted and went up to the barn. 

"What's the ruckus, boys?" Arthur asked them. 

"Get back! We got a cursed creature in here!" one of them yelled. They were both quite terrified of this dog. "He's as big as a mule and as mean as a hellcat!"

"It looked like a lion to me," the other said, his voice shaking. 

"That's a dog in there," Arthur said, shaking his head. Stupid idiots. "Now if you'll excuse me?"

"What?"

"Step aside," he demanded. 

"Well, if you're sure," one of them moved away, "Miss, perhaps you should wait over here?"

"I can handle a dog, even large ones, thank you," Grace said. 

The ranch hands shrugged and opened the barn door enough to let Arthur and Grace go through. They whistled and called for the dog. Just as they reached the back of the barn, something crashed through the hayloft door, followed by the sounds of people yelling and screaming. Grace and Arthur looked at each other before running to the door. 

Outside, one of the ranch hands was dead, his belly torn open. A cow lay dead nearby. 

"Son of a bitch," said Arthur then turned to Grace. "Stay here." 

"Don't tell me what to do," she scoffed. They followed the blood trail to a dead horse in the horse paddock and to the stable. They crept closer when a lion - an actual real lion - stepped out of one of the stalls. 

"Sweet mother of..." Arthur didn't finish before the lion charged. "Shit!" He drew his pistol quickly and shot it in the face until it fell dead just a couple feet away. 

"Jesus christ," Grace gasped, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, barely," he said, holstering his pistol. "Damn fool didn't bother telling us it was the real thing this time!" 

Grace knelt by the lion's head. "I've never seen one this close before. We always kept our distance from the animals when I was in Africa." She ran her hand through the lion's mane. "Now I can say I've pet a lion."

"A dead one."

"I'll conveniently leave that part out," she smiled up at him. He shook his head, then decided to take a trophy for himself. He cut off one of the lion's paws and put it in his satchel. 

"So, should we bring it back, or leave it here as a souvenir for the ranch?"

"I ain't carrying that thing back," Arthur left the paddock, passing other onlookers. He and Grace returned to Margaret and Sally Nash. 

"Odysseus returns!" Margaret cried out, "Sally, get the cages ready!"

"Yes, sir, right away!" Sally ran to the empty caravan cage. 

Arthur dismounted and advanced on Margaret. "A man-eating lion. You didn't think it might be useful for me to know that this time the animal was actually real, you moron?"

"Steady on, I clearly stated--"

"You haven't clearly stated anything in all the time I've known you. That could've been a goose for all I knew."

"What have you done with him if you don't mind me asking?" 

"I killed him," Arthur said. 

"Bloody hell! This is rum, old boy."

"Well, it was him or me. Now pay me." 

Margaret looked over at Grace who was watching with bemusement. She simply shrugged. "Yes, of course, of course. I have just the thing and what a treasure it is." He pulled out an emerald and held it out. "From the mines of El Dorado. As green as the rainforest, as clear as the Amazon, and as dear as all the gold in the Andes. One man's labour is but a trifle compared to this jewel's true value."

Arthur quickly grabbed it out of his hand. "Well, let's see what my friend here has to say about it." He handed it to Grace who looked it over carefully before holding it up to the sun. 

"It's coloured glass," she tossed it back to Arthur. 

"Trying to swindle me again, why don't you?" he threw it on the ground, "Now pay me!"

"Buggery hell," Margaret backed into the caravan. "Okay, okay." he reached under the seat and took out some money. "Here." He handed it to Arthur and turned to Sally. "Sally, get the wagons moving!"

"Ain't we waiting for the lion?" she asked. 

"He's in the great hunting ground in the sky," he sighed and climbed into the driver's seat. 

"Well, I won't keep you," said Arthur, "So long." 

Grace and Arthur watched them drive away. 

"So, why did you ask me to look at that jewel?" she asked him once Margaret and Sally were gone. 

"I thought you'd know if it's real or not, what with you being a world traveler and all." 

"Hmf, you're lucky I know what glass looks like," she laughed. "It's still on the ground there if you wanted a souvenir of your adventures today."

Arthur picked up the green glass and tossed it to Grace. "Here, your payment for your assistance."

"Wow. Thanks. So generous." She smiled and put it in her satchel. "Well, I don't know about you, but I could use a drink after all that."

"Heh, you sure that's a good idea?"

"No, but we just came face to face with an actual lion, so I think we deserve it." She waited for Arthur to mount his horse. "Come on, I know a place." 

"I ain't going back to Valentine."

"Oh no, we're going somewhere else. It's just up the road a bit from Emerald Ranch," Grace led the way down the road. They rode past Emerald Ranch and the train station and up into the hills. She turned off the road into the trees and to a large cabin. A number of horses and wagons were outside. 

"What is this place?" Arthur asked as he dismounted and hitched his horse. 

"I met this lady, Clarabel, a while ago," she replied, dismounting Tuula and not bothering to hitch her to any post, "We got to talking and she invited me here." She entered the shack and immediately headed downstairs. Arthur followed her down, past a fake bookcase and into a large bar. A band was playing music while patrons were drinking and dancing. 

"WAYHAAYYY!" a grey-haired woman shouted from the bar, "Looky who showed up!"

"Hey, Clara," Grace greeted her, "How's business?"

"Biz-- buzz-- it's good," Clara slurred, "Good. Very good."

"Anything new on the menu?"

"We gots this one, it's... it's.. very good," Clara pointed at her empty glass, "wait, where'd it go?"

Grace turned to the bartender who rolled his eyes. "I'll have what she's having. And so will he," she pointed to Arthur. The bartender poured out two shots of liquor and handed it to them. "Bottoms up," she toasted to Arthur and they both chugged their drinks. 

"Jesus, what is that?" Arthur asked. 

"Berry Mint moonshine," said the bartender. 

"It's... um... interesting," said Grace. "Have any beer?"

"I'll have one too," said Arthur. 

They took their beers over to an empty table and sat down. 

"Interesting place," Arthur said. 

"Yep, I like it. It may not be legal, per se, because of the moonshine, but eh." She paused to drink. "So what's next for you?"

"I don't know. I guess I'll see what they got planned when I get back."

"I don't see why you won't just take the money I've offered."

"How'd you get all that money anyway?" 

"Does it matter?"

"What will you do without it?"

"I don't need it."

"How could you not need it? That's a lot of money."

"I just don't, why does it matter? I don't need the money, you need the money, I don't understand why you just don't take it."

"I guess... I don't know."

"Heeeeey, there you are!" Clara stumbled over, "Does this big guy dance?" 

"No, I don't," said Arthur. 

"Oh, I think he might," Grace grinned at him. "Go on, you can't possibly be worse than her."

"You callin' me a bad dancer?" Clara tried to frown, but giggled instead. 

"Yes, I am, now off you go," Grace said. 

Clara grabbed Arthur's hand and pulled him closer to the band. 

"I hate you!" he yelled at Grace. 

"I know!" she yelled back. 

Arthur was certainly no expert on dancing, though he has danced with a few women in his time. Mary-Beth and Karen in camp. A few anonymous women in bars. Mary, all those years ago. But they were far, far better than drunk old Clara, who couldn't seem to decide what she was doing. First she'd hop from one foot to the other, then take Arthur's hand and try to spin, but would lose her balance so Arthur had to catch her from nose-diving into the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Grace had moved closer and was doubled over with laughter. 

The band started up a new song and Clara tried to continue to dance with Arthur but she had grabbed another unsuspecting man instead. Arthur took the opportunity to escape to the bar where Grace was ordering more drinks. 

"Have fun?" she asked, handing him a beer. 

"Thank you so much for that," he took the beer and chugged it, "So why weren't you dancing too?"

"No one asked me," she shrugged, drinking her beer. 

"Arthur! What you doin' here?" Sean sat down with them, "And who's this lass?"

"Grace," she lifted her beer to him. 

"Been hidin' her out here, have ya?" 

"No, she brought me here." 

"Ah, and here I thought you had too much a stick up yer arse," Sean chortled. 

"You know Clara?" Grace asked him. 

"Oh yeah, ran guard on a few shine runs for her, made a few bucks, she's a good ol' drunk."

"Heh, that she is," said Grace, "She seems to have taken a liking to Arthur here."

"Is that right? Didn't know you had it in ya."

"So which part of Ireland are you from?" she asked. 

"Donegal, came over on the boat years ago with me da."

"Hm, don't think I've been there."

"Really? I thought you was a world traveler," said Arthur. 

"I haven't been everywhere, geez."

"Y'know there's too much talkin' and not enough drinkin'," Sean stood, "I'll go get us another round."

The rest of the night was a blur of drinking. Sean convinced Grace to dance with him which ended with a slap to his face when he tried to kiss her. Sean laughed and switched his attention to some other young ladies. Arthur nearly fell over laughing, then followed Grace outside. 

"You okay?"

"It's warm, is it warm?" she said, removing her jacket and tossing it on the grass. 

"I don't know," Arthur hung on to the side of the cabin to keep the world from spinning around him. 

"I need to sit down," she remained standing and swaying a bit. 

"Why dontcha?"

"I don't remember how." She burst out giggling then fell over to her knees. "wait, I think I got it." She then fell over on her back and laughed again. "Where'd you go?"

"I don't know where I am," Arthur let go of the cabin and stumbled into the grass near her.

"I haven't drunk like that in... in... since 1837!" Grace cackled. "you remember what happened?"

"No, I was... I wasn't even born," he crawled over and lay on his back next to her.

"I don't remember, so long ago," she slurred.

"You're very strange."

"So're you, you big, weird... person."

"I think I'm going to rest my eyes now."

"Pfft, can't handle a few drinks?" 

"I can.. I can drink more."

Grace didn't respond. He looked over and her eyes were closed. Probably just resting her eyes. 

  
Arthur woke up with a massive headache and something kicking at his leg. He opened his eyes, immediately covering them from the bright sunlight. 

"Leave me alone, I wanna die," he groaned. 

"Me too," said Grace. He peeked from under his hand and saw her sitting nearby with her knees pulled up to her chest. 

"How much did we drink last night?" 

"Oh god, I don't know," she murmured as she rested her head against her knees, "All of it, maybe."

"I gotta stop drinking so much," he sat up slowly, "Is Sean still here?"

"I don't know," she looked over at him, "Bunch of people already left, I don't know who's still around." Grace slowly stood up, stumbling a bit as she did so. She went over to Tuula, who was grazing nearby, and retrieved a canteen from her saddlebag. After drinking out of it, she handed it to Arthur. 

"Thanks." He drank the rest of the water, gave the canteen back to Grace, and stood up. "Guess we should head out." 

"Yeah." Neither of them moved. "Okay, I'm leaving now." She tightened the cinch on her saddle and slowly mounted up. "See you around." 

"Yep," he said, slowly walking over to his own horse. "I'm gonna go and sleep this off." He heard her ride away as he rested his head against his horse's neck. 

"There he is!" Sean stumbled over. "Couldn't handle yer drink, could ya, haha."

"Shut up."

"We gotta head back, do more work for those Gray boys."

"What, now?"

"Well, later today. We're meetin' Bill and Micah in town, said something about extra security after the tobacco fields were burned down. Not that we know anythin' about that now."

"Alright, let's go." Arthur mounted up and rode with Sean back to Rhodes. 


	18. Saint Denis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saying goodbye to a friend, and saying hello to the big city.

_Sean has been killed. I'm more sad than I can admit. His head shot half off in an ambush. What a goddamn mess we are making of things._

_Little Jack's been kidnapped, so we're trying to find him. We burnt down Braithwaite Manor when we went hunting for him, in an almighty scrap. Apparently some fella in Saint Denis, senor something or other, took umbrage to our presence and kidnapped or, heaven forbid, worse._

  
Arthur couldn't sleep. All he could see was that poor kid getting his head blown half off. Sure, Sean was an annoying little shit, but he certainly didn't deserve that. He decided to just get up, go for a walk. He noticed he wasn't the only one who was restless. He could see Dutch's silhouette pacing back and forth in his tent. Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen were all huddled together, consoling each other. Abigail was being comforted by Miss Grimshaw while John hovered nearby. He could hear Hosea telling Lenny to get some sleep, but not lying down himself. 

He wandered off towards Sean's grave. As he approached, he wasn't surprised to see her there. Grace didn't say anything, instead letting him come to her. He couldn't say anything when he stopped in front of her. She embraced him tightly and he hugged her back. 

"Why didn't you tell me it was going to be Sean?" he finally asked, still hugging her. 

"I can't see the future," she replied as they parted. "It seemed pretty obvious that if you were going to keep getting yourselves involved in that damn feud, someone was going to die." 

"You're right," he sighed. "We should've seen it a long time ago. All that for some stupid gold that probably doesn't even exist. And this kid was the one to pay for it." He looked down at Sean's grave.

She knelt down to the basket on the ground and took out a couple of shot glasses. She handed one to Arthur. She took out a bottle of whiskey and poured some out in each glass. "To Sean, the bastard everyone loved to hate and hated to love." 

"Got that right," he couldn't help but smile a bit. They both gulped down their glasses. She handed the bottle of whiskey to him and he poured the rest on the grave. "That should set him right into the next life." They stood in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again. "Will you come back with me this time?" He immediately regretted asking.

"No," she said. "You need to find that boy. The last thing they need is for you to come back to camp in the middle of the night with a strange woman." 

"Yeah, you're right," he sighed. He had no idea how Grace knew Jack was missing, but then Abigail had been yelling about it all night. 

"Any ideas where he might be?"

"The Braithwaite woman said they gave him to someone named Angelo Bronte, in Saint Denis," replied Arthur. Grace nodded then picked up her basket and started walking away. "No point in asking when or where I'll see you again, is there?" She turned to him, smiled and shook her head. 

He returned to camp and lay back down in his cot. He tried to imagine what it would be like if she joined them, stayed with them, but he couldn't. She wasn't like them. She was a damn fine woman, but far too decent for the likes of them, for him. 

  
_More trouble with the Pinkertons. Guess we've made too much noise down here. We got spoken to by Agent Milton. This time he asked for Dutch's head on a platter. We got him to leave but they ain't too pleased with us._

_We're now hiding deep in the swamps in some disease ridden old plantation house, mostly swallowed up by nature, trying not to get eaten by wildlife or sink too deep in the mud. I cannot decide which I like less - the swamps or the city. Both are full of parasites, reptiles, and slime, but the swamp's prettier._

_Dutch and I headed into town and I managed to myself robbed by a bunch of children. This was a new low, even by my standards._

  
Arthur felt the weight of his satchel lessen when he realised one of the boys had cut it off and ran. 

"Hey! You little pair of shits!" he ran after the kid who stole the satchel. 

The kid jumped onto the back of a wagon. "Let's go! That feller looks angry!" 

"I'll kill you, you thieving bastard!" Arthur sprinted after the wagon. 

"You better run!" the kid taunted him, jumping off the wagon and running to jump on a passing tram. 

"You give that back!" Arthur jumped on a nearby horse and galloped after the tram. The kid jumped off the tram and down an alley. Arthur dismounted and ran down the alley, but couldn't see which way he went. "GODDAMN IT!" 

"Hey! Hey! Let go!" he heard the kid shout from somewhere nearby. "I didn't mean it, miss! OW!" 

A moment later, Grace appeared, pulling the kid by his ear towards Arthur. "Give it back," she demanded. 

"Okay, okay, geez," the kid tossed Arthur's satchel to the ground in front of him but she didn't let go. 

"Little shit," Arthur said, picking up his satchel, "Now tell me where Angelo Bronte is."

"I-- I--- OW!" the kid screamed when Grace pulled on his ear again. "Okay! Big house on Flavian Street opposite the park. Now let me go!"

"Manners," she said. 

"Alright, alright, let me go, please!" 

"And to him?"

"Jesus, lady, I-- OW! Okay, okay! Sorry, mister." 

Grace let go of him and he ran away. "I catch you stealing things again, I will horsewhip you into next year!" She then turned to Arthur. "And you, getting robbed by kids? I thought you were smarter than that." She shook her head. 

"Little bastards, told me they'd show me where Angelo Bronte lived and were showing me around," Arthur said. 

"I bet you told them it was your first time here, didn't you?" Arthur didn't say anything. "I would've thought, presumably being a child delinquent yourself, you'd know all the tricks."

"Apparently not."

"Apparently. Well, I'm afraid I can't stay, I have other things I need to be doing."

"Can I walk you to wherever you need to go?" 

"I'll be fine, I've been here far longer than you," she winked at him.

"Hey, wait, how did you know he stole my things?"

"I recognised your satchel," she said, "And those assholes have tried to steal my things before too, only they were less successful with me." 

"Thanks," he paused, "You, uh, look nice today." 

"Thanks, gotta dress up for the city," she said looking down at her plum coloured skirt and jacket, "See you around."

_I have not ever met a lizard in a suit before, only now I have and his name is Angelo Bronte. He is either our salvation or our damnation. This city's strongman arrived from Italy a few years ago and now knows and controls everything and everyone._

_He had not harmed Jack, but that may be in thanks to Grace..._

  
"So you're okay, Jack?" John asked as he put his son on his horse. 

"Yes, I had fun," Jack replied. "Papa Bronte teached me some new words in Italian. Like cavallo! That means horse."

"Look at that, Marston, your own son can speak more languages than you," Arthur joked. 

"Not as much as Miss Grace," said Jack. Arthur perked up. "She can speak all sorts of languages! She taught me how to say hello in French. It's 'bonjour'."

"Miss Grace? Who's she?" asked John. 

"She helped look after me," said Jack, "She's nice. She told me some stories and played with me."

"What did she look like?" asked Arthur.

"She was pretty, but not as pretty as Momma," said Jack. "But Miss Grace has the prettiest blue eyes."

"Well she sounds mighty nice, Jack," said Dutch. 

"Do you think I'll see her again?"

"I don't know, Jack," said John, "Probably not."

"Oh," Jack said disappointed. Arthur smiled to himself. 

"You never know, Jack," Arthur said, "Maybe she'll show up one day."

"I hope so!"

Arthur spent the rest of the ride back to camp wondering how the hell Grace had managed to not only get into the Bronte mansion, which was probably the most guarded house he'd ever seen, but also convince Angelo Bronte to let her look after Jack. How could they ever thank her enough. She's already saved Jack and John twice, Hosea once, and his own self many times over. And he still didn't understand why. 

When they returned to camp, Abigail was elated to have her son back, thanking Dutch and Arthur, but not saying a word to John. The rest of the camp was just as happy so a 'Welcome Home' party was declared. 

"Eat up, Jack," Abigail gave Jack a bowl of stew. 

"Thanks, Momma, but Miss Grace made sure I ate before I left," said Jack. 

"Oh. Who's that?" Abigail asked

"She looked after me at Papa, I mean, Mr. Bronte's," Jack said, "She said Pa would come get me. Can we invite her over?"

"Oh, well, no, I don't think that's a good idea," said Abigail. 

"Oh, that's what Pa said too," Jack said, disappointed, 

"Was she real nice?" asked Abigail. 

"Oh yes, she told me stories and played with the toys with me," he said cheerfully. 

"Well I'm glad you had a good time," Abigail said.

"I did, but I'm glad to be back here again."

John took Arthur aside. "Don't you think it's strange that Bronte's house was full of men, but the only woman is the one to look after Jack?"

"Sort of. Between you and me, I think I know who it is."

"You do? Who is she?" 

"She's been helping us."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember the girl up in the mountains? Who led us to you? That's Grace. She's also the one who rode her horse into the water to get you and Jack." 

"Jesus," John's eyes widened, "But why?"

"I haven't the damnedest idea," Arthur said, "She's a strange one. You know she's been misleading the Pinkertons away from us?"

"They still found us at Clemens Point."

"Yeah, but we been making a lot of noise there."

"What are we doing, Arthur?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure Dutch'll think of something."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"What are you boys doing over here?" Miss Grimshaw interrupted them, "Come join the party!" 

"Go on, go be with your family," Arthur said to John. He looked in the direction of the city, now wondering where Grace was then. 

  
"A garden party?"

"A huge gala at the mayor's house," said Dutch, "all the rich fools of Lemoyne will be there!"

"Which means, Arthur, you'll need to wear something nice," said Hosea. 

"What do you mean?" Arthur narrowed his eyes slightly. 

"I mean, my boy, evening wear," Hosea said, "Let's go, we need to go get some clothes to wear so we can pass as civilized citizens of this great nation."

"Son of a bitch..." Arthur said to himself.

Hosea and Arthur rode into the city where they found appropriate outfits to wear to the mayor's fancy ball. Afterward, Hosea brought the garments back to Shady Belle while Arthur decided to have a look around the city a bit. 

Terrible place. He brought Smokey to the stable because he was spooking too much with the crowds and the trams. He decided to check out the main street, see what was there. He hadn't been in a city this big before. 

"Not being robbed by children today?" 

He almost jumped into the road. Grace was sitting on a bench, wearing a navy skirt and white blouse, but she was looking even more sickly than he's seen before. 

"Jesus, are you okay?" He sat next to her. 

"Yes, it'll pass."

"You said that last time."

"And a few days later I was fine," she smiled at him. He frowned slightly. 

"Do you want me to take you to a doctor or something?"

"I said it's fine," she said, "I just need to rest more often until it passes."

"What exactly is wrong with you?"

"Oh, plenty is wrong with me," she said, standing, "Care to walk with me to the train station? I need to pick up some mail."

"Sure." He offered her his arm which she took and they headed to the station. 

"So what brings you into the city?" she asked.

"Believe it or not, but we have been invited to the mayor's fancy garden party, or whatever it is."

"No kidding? Why would the mayor invite a bunch of hooligans like yourselves?"

"Angelo Bronte invited us."

"Oh lord, I hope you're not getting into that."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure you already have."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really, 'Miss Grace'?"

"Why, Mr. Morgan, what ever do you mean?" she smiled. 

"So how did you manage to get into Bronte's house?"

"Spoke Italian," she said, "Told them I wanted work looking after children."

"And you didn't think to try to get Jack out?"

"Oh I did, but it would've been very difficult. For one, there's armed men everywhere. And two, I knew you would eventually show up. I just wanted to make sure Jack was safe for when you came to get him." 

"We appreciate it," he said. "Y'know, he wants to see you again."

"Perhaps one day."

"You're not going to disappoint a little boy, are you?"

"Never," she smiled up at him, "But be careful around Angelo Bronte, will you?"

"I will." 

"Good." 

They arrived at the station and Grace picked up a few letters. She sat down on a bench, needing to rest, and Arthur sat next to her. 

"Oh, good," she said, opening one of the letters and reading it. "Fascinating!" 

"What is it?"

"I wrote to Mr. Tyrell, the fella I accompanied on an expedition where we found dinosaur bones, or rather, he found the bones, I just happened to be there," she said, not looking up from the letter, "I asked if he had found any other dinosaurs, and he said they had gone way up north and made contact with the Eskimos up there. First time in over a century anyone has made the journey that far north. He's now running a gold-mining business."

"Don't suppose he wants to share any of that gold, huh?"

"You'd have to work for it," she said, putting the letter away, "By the way, have you found any more dinosaur bones for that paleontologist?"

"A few, and she says she still needs more."

"I found some," she reached into her satchel and handed him a piece of paper and a pouch. "Locations of larger bones, and some teeth."

"Dinosaur teeth?" he opened the pouch and took out a large tooth that was the same size as his hand. "Jesus, imagine being bitten by this."

"I'd rather not," Grace laughed, "Well, I best be heading out."

"Where are you staying?"

"At a farm outside the city," she said, "Tuula's at the stable right now and I better go get her before she kicks the place down."

"Heh, my horse is there too, but I imagine he's not trying to kick the place down." He stood and offered his arm to her again. She took it and they walked down the road to the stable. 

"Usually I'd just leave her at the farm and walk into the city, but I needed her to bring me in."

"No one at that farm could help you out?"

"Oh, probably, but they're quite busy this time of year."

"So... this, whatever this is," he gestured to her pale, grey face, "It isn't catching, is it?"

"Nah, you can't get it, so don't worry."

"But you're sure you're okay?"

"Yes, Arthur, Jesus, stop asking," Grace said, annoyed. 

"Sorry, it's just, you look like you should be buried in a grave right now."

"I know, it is ghastly, isn't it? But it keeps potential pickpockets away." 

They arrived at the stable where they were met by a terrified stablehand. 

"Miss, will you please remove your horse immediately?" 

Before Grace could reply there was a loud whinny followed by a thunderous boom as Tuula kicked the wall. 

"Oy! Quit it!" Grace yelled into the barn. Tuula snorted in response, but went quiet. She turned to the stablehand. "I'm so sorry, she's not used to being pent up like this." She reached into her satchel and removed a small wad of bills. "Here, for the trouble. And for any repairs you might need." 

"Gosh, thank you, miss!" he said and stepped aside to let Grace in. Arthur followed her in, giving his horse a quick pat. 

"Stop your sulking, we're leaving now," Grace said into one of the stalls. Arthur looked to see Tuula standing with her rear towards the stall door. 

"Your horse actually has tantrums, does she?" he laughed. 

"Oh yes, quite annoying sometimes," she said, picking up her saddle from beside the stall. 

"Here, let me," Arthur took the saddle from her and opened the stall door. 

"Wait, she'll--" Grace stopped when he went in and placed the saddle on Tuula's back. "Well, I'll be damned. I was going to say she'll kick or bite you, but I guess not."

"She's not so bad, are you, girl?" he patted Tuula who nickered back. 

"Traitor," Grace smiled at them then handed Arthur the bridle. He finished tacking up the appaloosa and led her out. "She likes you," Grace said petting her horse on the forehead. 

"She's a terrible judge of character then," Arthur laughed, handing Grace the reins. 

"She's an excellent judge of character, she just chooses to hate everyone. Except you, apparently." She led Tuula outside. Arthur helped her mount up. "Thank you," she smiled down at him. 

"So you'll be feeling better in a few days then?" 

"Should be, yes."

"I-- okay. Be well." 

"See you around." 

Arthur watched her ride away, happy to have ran into her. He was going to ask her to meet him back in Saint Denis when she was feeling better, but he decided against it. It was somehow more impelling when they meet by chance. He looked forward to seeing her more and more, but he still wasn't sure how he really felt about her. 

Or rather, he was becoming more sure how he felt about her. It's just he didn't deserve her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else hate the mission where you have to run after the little asshole kid who steals your bag? Fuck that mission. But I finally managed to catch the little shit since I'm playing through the game as I'm writing.


	19. The Rich and the Wretched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur goes to a fancy party and sees the darker side of the city.

_My lord, now I have done everything. I went to a ball, like a fool in a fairytale. Dutch got us invited and off we trooped, trussed up like turkeys for Thanksgiving and waxed and polished and primped to within an inch of our lives. Bronte did not mingle with the other guests but lorded over the place like a Roman Emperor deciding who to have killed for his fun. Please was full of drunks, lunatics, liars & clowns. But the thing was kind of fun. _

  
Arthur headed down the stairs, after being told to find and speak to the mayor and to also mingle with the other guests. He had never felt so out of place in his life. 

"You clean up pretty well, Mr... who are you today?" 

Arthur turned and saw Grace, back to full health, wearing an elegant grey ball gown and her hair was plaited and pinned up on her head with a few flowers. 

"Heh, it's my real self today," he said, "What are you doing here?"

"Decided to visit the rich folks, especially after you said you would be here too," she grinned. 

"How did you get an invite?"

"I didn't. But I find you can get in most places if you just act like you belong," she said, looking him up and down, "And you would've failed miserably if you hadn't had an invite."

"Why, what's wrong with this monkeysuit?"

"Nothing's wrong with the outfit, it's you. You look like you've worked every single day of your miserable life."

"Which I have."

"Exactly. You have to act like you've worked every single day of your life, while also looking like you haven't done any actual labour."

"You seem to know a lot about this."

"I've been to a few fancy balls in my time, so dull. The men talk business and politics, the women talk about clothing and how much they do around the house when it's really the servants doing all the work, and ugh," she wrinkled her nose.

"And here you are," he gestured around them. 

"Yeah, well, I have no obligation to talk house with anyone. Besides, I just wanted to see if you'd actually dress up." 

"What, you thought I was going to come in wearing blood- and mud-soaked rags?"

"I was hoping you would," she laughed, "But you look very handsome. Just..." she moved forward to adjust his bowtie, then removed one of the carnations from her hair and stuck it to his lapel with one of her hair pins. "There. Almost perfect."

"Almost?"

"Just need a trim and a bit of pomade, but I'm afraid I left my scissors at home," she grinned. 

"Ha, well, thank you," he smiled back at her. 

"So what have you got going on with Mr. Bronte?"

"I don't know yet. He mentioned something about money at the trolley station."

"The trolley station?" Grace frowned. "Doesn't seem like the kind of place to have much money."

"Bronte says it does."

"Hmm, I'd look into that further before acting, if I were you," she then lowered her voice, "He's not exactly trustworthy, even if he did give Jack back without much fuss."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Arthur said, "I'll look into it."

"Aren't you supposed to be mingling more, Arthur?" Hosea joined them. "Ah! The lovely lady who saved my behind back in Rhodes. Nice to see you again and under better circumstances." 

"Likewise, how are you this evening?" she greeted him with a smile. 

"Miserable, but keeping on," he replied, "Anyway, Arthur, don't forget what we're here for. Have a good evening." 

"So you're going around looking for robbery tips, huh?" she asked Arthur quietly after Hosea left. 

"Yeah, something like that," he replied. 

"Careful who you choose," she said, "I mean, some of these people are snobs who have their noses so far up in the air they've lost sight of their own feet, but others are okay. Like her, Mrs. Dumont." She pointed to a large woman laughing loudly. "Extremely wealthy and a bit flakey, but she donates a lot of money to charity. And that fella over there," she pointed to a skinny, nervous-looking man, "Richer than most people here put together, but he runs his own retirement farm for horses. Once a horse gets too old or too broken down for work, instead of shipping them out for slaughter, he'll buy them and they can live the rest of their lives on a nice farm with lots of fields. Most people think he's crazy, but I think it's nice."

"A retirement farm for horses?" laughed Arthur. "Y'know, that ain't such a bad idea. Can we send him Hosea?"

"Heh, how does he like his oats?" she smiled. "But my point is, just because some of these people have enough wealth to share doesn't necessarily mean they aren't doing good with it." 

"I'll make sure we don't rob the good ones then," he said. "Want something to drink?" Grace nodded and he picked up a couple of glasses off a passing champagne tray. 

"Thanks," she said, taking the glass from Arthur, "Now, you're supposed to be mingling with the snobs."

"Yeah," he downed his champagne then looked around. 

"Anyone in particular you're looking for?" she asked, taking a sip of her champagne. 

"The mayor."

"Ah, over there," she pointed. 

"Thanks," he said, but didn't move. 

"Not going to introduce yourself?" she asked with a smile. 

"Yeah," he sighed. 

"I'll see you around, Mr. Morgan," she smiled then walked away. He watched until she disappeared into the crowd. 

He was about to head over to the mayor when he heard someone hacking near the nearby table overladen with food. A man in a ridiculous top hat was doubled over and choking. Arthur slapped him hard on the back, dislodging the food he was choking on. The man gasped for breath. 

"You okay?" Arthur asked. 

"Oh, my Lord, the pesky nut, what a way to go, eh?" the man said, taking some deep breaths. "Thank you, sir, oh, thank you!" He stood straighter after a moment. "Algernon Wasp," he introduced himself. 

"Uh, Tacitus Kilgore," Arthur said. 

"Hello, Tacitus Kilgore," said Algernon, "And what is it that you do?"

"I'm, uh, I'm an adventurer."

"Oh! Me too! Pursuer of the exotic and the remarkable!" He handed Arthur a business card, "My card, sir. Come and visit me in my atelier. Good evening."

Arthur pocketed the business card and then made his way over to the mayor by the large fountain where he was holding audience with a few other well-dressed men. 

"It ain't complex, Lemieux," one of the men, clearly drunk, was saying, "and only an idiot like you, buddy, would try to make it so."

"I will not deny idiocy, sir, but perhaps now is not the time," Lemieux replied. 

"Hahaha, typical pansy!" the drunk man laughed. 

"You are drunk, Ferdinand."

"I am not drunk, you fool, but this man," he patted the shoulder of the man next to him, "this man loves darkies."

Arthur stepped in, held Ferdinand's arm behind his back, and escorted him away. "You are pretty drunk. Why don't you go sleep it off." He brought him to the edge of the property and told him to go sit down for a while. Ferdinand grumbled as Arthur returned to the mayor. 

"Thank you, sir," the mayor shook his hand, "Henri Lemieux. I hope you're enjoying my party."

"That's quite a place you got here," Arthur said. 

"It's not mine and the city is horribly in debt but we can still put on a good show," mayor Lemieux chuckled. "Do you know Evelyn Miller?" He introduced the man Ferdinand had chastised earlier. 

"My Lord, the writer?" Arthur said, as they were interrupted by fireworks going off. 

"Shall we?" the mayor said, motioning towards the fireworks. 

Arthur watched them light up the sky. He'd never seen anything like it before. 

"Beautiful, aren't they?" Grace said, joining him. 

"Yeah," he looked over at her, watching as the fireworks lit up in her blue eyes. He moved closer so his hand was just touching hers. 

He was then distracted by a servant mentioning 'Mr. Cornwall' to the mayor. He listened closer and overheard something about a paper needing to be signed. Dutch came up on Arthur's other side and told him to follow and see what it's all about. Arthur nodded then turned to Grace. "I'll see you later," he whispered before following the servant. 

Arthur kept his distance, pretending to be looking for someone in the crowd. He overheard the servant talking to a policeman, who was saying they were keeping a close eye on Bronte's men. When the policeman left, Arthur continued following the servant into the house. But once inside, he lost sight of him. He was just heading up the stairs when the servant found him. 

"Excuse me, sir, but this part of the house is off limits to guests," the servant said from the bottom of the stairs, "The party is out this way." 

"Oh, my apologies," said Arthur. The servant led him back outside. "Thank you, sir." Arthur then cursed under his breath. The servant went back into the house, looking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being followed. 

"Did you find anything interesting?" Dutch asked as he, Hosea, and Bill approached. 

"No, I was spotted," said Arthur.

"Dammit, Arthur," said Bill. 

"I could try," Hosea said slowly, deep in thought. "Where do you think it might be?"

"Probably that room we saw them lock up when we was leaving Mr. Bronte," said Arthur to Dutch. 

Before anyone else could speak, the servant then reappeared with Grace following, looking quite exasperated. "Sir, I believe this lady was looking for you," he said to Arthur. 

"Thank you, sir, gosh, I get so lost sometimes!" Grace said to the servant, who rolled his eyes and returned to the house. 

"Well no wonder you were spotted," Bill hissed at Arthur. 

"Yes, well, you dropped something back there," she handed Arthur a small folded piece of paper with a wink. "Good evening, gentlemen." She hurried away. 

"What the hell was that about?" asked Bill. 

Arthur unfolded the paper and smiled when he read it. "Where I failed, she succeeded." 

"In that case, I think it's time for us to leave," said Dutch, "And you are going to tell me more about her."

In the coach back, Arthur told them a bit more about Grace, about how she's helped them out often, from rescuing John in the mountains to looking after Jack at Angelo Bronte's mansion to misleading the Pinkertons. He left out the part where she had offered him all the money to leave, not wanting them to get ideas to rob her further. 

"And she took out a Lemoyne Raider trying to choke me to death when we were trying to give away their shine in Rhodes," added Hosea. 

"Well, I don't like it," Bill grumbled. 

"How much does she actually know about us?" asked Dutch. 

"More than she lets on," said Arthur. 

"If she's been misleading Pinkertons, then how the hell did they find us anyway?" Bill asked. 

"Well we weren't exactly staying quiet, especially after burning down the Braithwaite place," said Hosea. He turned to Arthur, "Do you know if she's talked to them since we moved here?"

"I don't know."

"Hm, well, I think I'd like to meet this lady of yours, Arthur," said Dutch, "When do you plan on seeing her next?"

"Hah, I don't know, she usually shows up when she feels like it." 

"Well, bring her into camp next time you see her!"

Arthur agreed, then wondered if Dutch had an ulterior motive. Would it simply be a nice visit for everyone to meet Grace, or is he planning on getting her to so something for him? As much as Arthur trusted Dutch, he didn't want Grace to be manipulated by him. Sure, she was pretty smart, but would she be able to see through Dutch?

  
By the following morning, everyone now knew about Grace. 

"About time you got over that Mary woman!" said Miss Grimshaw.

"It ain't like that," Arthur protested. 

"Well I can't wait to meet her, especially after risking her life to save young Jack like that." 

"Arthur!" 

"What is it, Uncle?"

"What's this I hear about you finding a new lady and not telling us?"

"Oh for... It ain't like that."

"Whatever you say," Uncle said, clearly not believing him and walking away. 

"Hey, Arthur."

"I said it ain't like that!"

"Okay, just wanted to offer you a coffee," Abigail said, handing him a cup. 

"Sorry," he took the coffee and drank it.

"So. This new lady, Grace? She the one Jack's been talking about?"

Arthur nodded. 

"Well, she sounds like a good one," Abigail moved closer and lowered her voice, "Don't let her get too involved."

"I won't, but she might do it anyway," Arthur finished his coffee and left camp for the city, hoping to run into Grace there. But it was so big, where would he even start? He left his horse in the stable again, checking to see if Tuula was there as well but she wasn't. He roamed around the city, hating nearly everything about it. The crowds, the noise, it was horrible. Maybe the market wouldn't be so bad. 

Outside the market, a monk was calling out for donations to the poor. 

"You, kind sir," he called to Arthur, "Will you help the poor?"

"I ain't so kind," Arthur replied. 

"Yes you are, sir," the monk said, "You have it in you, I can tell."

"I'm a nasty bit of work, father," said Arthur. 

"You're wrong on two counts, sir. I'm a humble Brother, a penitent monk, not a priest. And you're a magnificent bit of work. You may have made some poor choices but which of us hasn't?"

"Hah, you have no idea," Arthur laughed. 

"Why don't you hedge your bets and give two bits to the poor?"

"Why not," Arthur tossed in a few coins into the donation dish. "So how you gettin' on?"

"These are a somewhat apathetic lot I'm afraid," the monk looked around then moved closer to Arthur to speak quietly, "Thing is, poverty will always be with us, but slavery, I thought we banished that. But Saint Denis is acting as a staging post for shipping slaves out to some of the islands."

"It's 1899, I don't believe you," scoffed Arthur. 

"Maybe you should take a look for yourself. I've heard that the pawnbroker down the block sells more than forlorn trinkets."

Arthur nodded and entered the market to investigate the pawnbroker's. In a way, he was surprised Grace hadn't heard about this yet and taken care of it herself. 

"Arthur!" 

Speak of the devil. He turned and saw Grace waving at him through the crowd of people, today wearing a black skirt and yellow blouse and carrying a basket. 

"What are you doing here?" he asked. 

"I was going to ask you the same question," she said, then held up her basket, "I was just picking up some vegetables and things. And you?"

"I--" he stopped and pulled her to the side, leaning closer to her, "I've been asked to check out a possible slave seller."

Grace went silent and her face darkened. "Where?"

"Now, don't go crazy--"

"Where?" she demanded. 

"Pawnbroker's."

Grace walked quickly towards the pawnbroker's and had reached the door before Arthur pulled her back. 

"Wait, let's just do this quietly," he said, "Maybe it's nothing. We'll have a look around."

Grace nodded slightly then entered the shop. The pawnbroker greeted them both, but Grace ignored him. Arthur tipped his hat slightly, but concentrated on looking around the shop. Where would one hide possible slaves in here?

"Oh, uh, madame, nothing much back there, I'm afraid," the pawnbroker said to Grace who had gone to a small alcove, "Just a few old books." 

"What's behind the bookcase?" she asked. 

"I don't know what you mean, there is a wall, nothing more." 

Arthur joined her and she pointed at the scratch marks on the floor, clearly showing the bookcase had been pulled away from the wall many times. He turned back to the pawnbroker. "How about you show us what's behind there?"

"There-there is nothing behind there," the pawnbroker stuttered, "On-only books. A-and a wall."

Grace dropped her basket and stalked over to the pawnbroker who backed up into the shelves. She grabbed him by the ear and pulled him over to the bookcase. "Show us."

"I-I-I don't know what you mean!" the pawnbroker pleaded. 

Before Arthur could do anything, Grace pulled out a knife and held it to the pawnbroker's throat. "Tell us how to get behind that bookcase or I swear to God they will never find your body." 

"The-the red book! That big one there, just pull it!" the pawnbroker broke down, "Please, just let me go." 

Arthur gently pulled Grace away and told the pawnbroker to scram. She pulled the red book and the bookcase unlocked. Arthur pulled it open to reveal a set of stairs leading down to a basement. They headed down to hear hushed voices. 

"Jesus," said Arthur, looking at the chains and manacles on the wall. In the corner, two young men, were chained by their hands to the wall. They started speaking quickly in a language Arthur didn't understand. 

Grace ran to them, speaking in their language, while Arthur unlocked the chains. They helped them up the steps, clearly weak from lack of food and water. Upstairs, Grace took two apples out of her basket and gave it to them. While they ate ferociously, Arthur helped himself to the cash in the register and divided it between the two men. 

"Here, now let's go, there's a man out here who will take care of you," said Arthur as he started to herd them out the door. 

" _Qué_?" asked one of the men. 

Grace translated and they nodded their heads in understanding. They followed Arthur back to the monk, who seemed surprised to see him. 

"Brother..?" 

"Brother Dorkins, friend."

"Arthur Morgan," he pointed to Grace, "Grace M- I mean, Bellerose. And I found these two imprisoned in that shop." He pushed the two men to Brother Dorkins. 

"Oh my, well they are blessed to have met you, Arthur."

"Trust me, in that they're very unusual, I don't think they speak much English."

"They speak Spanish," Grace said. She turned to the men and spoke to them again in Spanish, pointing at Brother Dorkins. 

"My brothers, come," Brother Dorkins started to usher them away, "Let's get you something to eat. _Comida_. Please."

"Hey, you forgot this," Arthur picked up the donation dish. 

"Oh, thank you, I--" Brother Dorkins took the dish, then held it back to Arthur, "Here. Payment, for your services."

"Give it to the poor, Brother," Arthur said. 

"Thank you, I will. Come see me again sometime. Old church on Gaspar Street in St. Frances." 

They watched Brother Dorkins and the two freed men hurry down the street. 

"And you say you aren't a good man," Grace elbowed him. 

"And here I thought you were the good one," he turned to her, "What was that back there, threatening a man like that?"

"Anyone who imprisons people like that is not a man," Grace said angrily, "And besides, you've seen me threaten that man in the Valentine saloon."

"Oh yeah," he said, remembering when Grace had threatened the guy who was trying to make advances on her. "So. You speak Spanish too?"

"I learned in Spain."

"Any languages you don't know?"

"Oh, plenty. Anyway, I'm sure you have plenty going on," she turned to walk away. 

"Wait! Will you, uh, will you come back with me?"

"No."

"Dutch and them want to meet you, you know, to thank you for everything you've done for us."

"I don't know," she sighed and looked downward, "It's... it's just that I'm busy."

"Busy following me?"

"Heh, no, seems you're the one following me these days," she looked up at him and winked, "See you around, Arthur."

He didn't understand, why wouldn't she go back to camp with him? Is it because she didn't want to get too close to a gang of outlaws? Was she afraid someone was going to steal her things while she visited? He was sure they didn't. Well, most of them wouldn't. Some of them wouldn't. 

Arthur then laughed to himself as he realised no one would steal anything from her. They could try, but he knew her well enough by now that anyone trying to steal from her might end up with her knife at their throat. And that could turn nasty within the camp. He decided to talk it over with Dutch, make sure everyone knew not to try anything. Then he'd have to try to convince Grace to visit. 

He rode back to camp, trying to figure out a way to convince her. When he arrived, Mary-Beth greeted him as she read by the gazebo. 

"Hi, Arthur, you got a letter," she said. 

"Okay, thanks."

"Looks like it's from Mary."

Oh. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading the story so far and for the kudos and comments. I appreciate it so much!


	20. A Walk Through the City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur meets up with Mary again, meets Sister Calderon, and spends some time with Grace. He finds himself needing to make a difficult decision.

_Mary wrote to me. Wants to see me again. Oh Mary, what fools we are. What a fool I am._

Arthur rode slowly toward Saint Denis. He wanted to see Mary, of course he did. But at the same time, he didn't. He loved her too much to break her heart. But she needed his help again. Of course he'll help, how could he not? 

He stopped off the road before crossing the bridge into the city, took out the letter, and read it again. He sighed as he finished and rubbed his eyes. When he opened them, Grace was on her horse in front of him. Today she was wearing a fancy riding habit and mounted side-saddle. 

"Good morning, Arthur," she greeted him. 

"Mornin'," he replied. He was happy to see her, but it complicated his feelings. He loved Mary, he would always love Mary, but he was starting to feel the same way about Grace. 

"Off to see Mary?"

"I'm not even going to ask how you know about that," he said. 

"Well, you're cleaner than usual and you shaved," she pointed out, "Would've thought you'd be happier." 

"It's... difficult."

"She asked for help again?" 

"Yeah."

"And you're going to help her, right?"

"I don't know."

"Well, of course you are."

"How do you know?"

"Because if you don't, I will never talk or follow you ever again," she joked. 

"Oh good, at least it'll be quiet again," he chuckled, then sighed. 

"I know you still love her so of course you'll help her." 

Arthur paused, thinking hard, then asked cautiously, "What if.. what if there was someone else?"

Grace stared at him for a moment. "Someone else in her life? Or in yours?"

He took a deep breath. "Mine." 

She paused for a few moments before speaking again. "You're the only one who can make that choice, Arthur. Good luck."

She rode past him. He rode into the city to meet with Mary. 

_Saw Mary and the awful Daddy, who has taken to drink, which unsurprisingly ain't improved him a whole lot. What a foul pig he is. Taken to hawking off family heirlooms and cursing the world for it. Still a stuck up son of a bitch._

_I don't know._

_All I know is that I love her and she both loves and detests me. It never worked before and it won't ever work now, yet it gnaws at me, the idea of it gnaws at me like a sickness._

_I've got to give all that nonsense up. I'm an outlaw, a murderer, a man with a code different to ordinary folk, and Mary ain't never going to be for my world. Do I really think I can retire someplace nice and live a normal life with a wife?_

_Am I a big enough dolt to believe that is possible?_

Arthur wandered over to the train platform, sat on a bench, and lit up a cigarette. He leaned back and thought of his decision. But instead of imagining spending the rest of his life with Mary, he thought of Grace. Did he really make the right choice? He wondered where Grace was at that point. 

He didn't have long to wait. He saw her walking towards the docks. He stamped out his cigarette and followed her. She sat on some crates, facing the water, no longer in the riding habit he saw her in earlier, but a plain navy skirt and blue blouse. 

"Hello, Grace," he greeted her. She turned and smiled at him. 

"Arthur, how did you fare with Mary?" 

"Helped her, then promised to run away with her when everything's sorted," he said. Even as he said the words aloud, he wasn't so sure just as he wasn't so sure when he said them to Mary.

"And when will everything be sorted?"

"We just need the money to leave the country."

"And yet you won't take my money."

"Is it enough to get over 20 people out of the country?"

"Yes." 

"I..." Arthur sighed. "I can't take it." 

"Why not?"

"I just can't."

"So, let me get this straight," she hopped off the crate. "You need money to solve all your problems, I have money to solve all your problems, but you won't take that money."

"Well come back with me and give it to everyone!" he said angrily. "I'm sure Dutch will gladly take it off your hands."

"I'm sure he will, but I'm not offering it to Dutch. I'm offering it to you." 

"Why are you making this difficult?"

"Arthur, with that money, you could help everyone you need to help and then run away to spend the rest of your life with Mary. I'm not the one making this difficult."

"But what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Wouldn't you miss having all that money?"

"I don't need it."

"What would you do if I ran away with Mary?"

Grace shrugged with a small smile. "Find someone else to follow and annoy, I suppose."

"What if I didn't go with Mary?" 

"Why wouldn't you?"

Arthur sighed. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just trying to hang onto something that used to be there. And I've spent too long living the way I have." 

"What would make you happier? Leaving with Mary or staying with Dutch?"

"I don't know."

"Because if you left with Mary, you'd be worrying about the gang, but if you stay with Dutch, you'll be worrying about Mary?"

"Yes... no... I don't know!"

"Sometimes you need to make sacrifices to be happy." Grace started heading back toward the train platform. She turned to him while walking backwards. "Choose happiness, Arthur. You deserve it. I'll see you around." 

  
Arthur took a long way back to camp, trying to decide what to do. Should he take Grace's money and run away with Mary? Or should he stay with the gang? As much as he still loved Mary, he couldn't see himself spending his life with her. Not anymore. What would he even do? How would he provide for her? He knew she didn't like his way of life, but how could he just stop? 

And what about Grace? How could he just leave and forget her? Would she continue following them wherever they went to next? Or was this going to be as far as she'll go? Or will she just pack up and go off to some far away country he's never heard of and forget all about him? 

It was all very confusing and complicated and Arthur didn't know what to do. 

  
A few days later, he rode back to the city, unsure of what his intentions would be. Should he stop by the hotel to see Mary again? Or continue hoping to meet up with Grace? 

Maybe he should talk to someone else. He didn't know anyone else in town, other than that monk he met. Brother Dorkins? Where did he say he would be, old church on Gaspar Street? Well, he didn't have any other option. He asked for directions to Gaspar Street and rode there. 

Outside the small church, Brother Dorkins and an old nun were sitting with some boys, helping them with reading. 

"Mornin'," Arthur greeted them as he dismounted. 

"Oh! Sister, my friend, Mr. Morgan," Brother Dorkins introduced him. 

"Brother Dorkins told me about the wonderful thing you did," the nun said gratefully, standing to shake his hand. 

"Heh, he talks a lot of nonsense, no offense," Arthur said. 

"None taken," Brother Dorkins smiled. One of the boys suddenly ran past them. "Hey, stop! That's Sister's crucifix!" 

"Ugh, these kids are the worst!" Arthur started after the boy. 

"Don't hurt him, please!" the nun yelled after him. 

"Meet us at the cathedral, Mr. Morgan!" Brother Dorkins added. 

The boy was fast and Arthur quickly lost sight of him. He swore, but kept running in the direction he last saw him. He rounded the corner and saw the kid being pushed up against the wall by another man. 

"Where's my watch, you little weasel?" the man demanded. 

"I don't know nothing about no damn watch!" cried the boy. 

"Last Saturday, I saw you steal it with my own two eyes!"

"Hey you," Arthur approached them, "Why don't you leave the boy alone?"

"What's it to do with you?" the man asked angrily. 

"I can hit a lot harder than you, I promise you that," Arthur threatened. 

"Alright, forget it," the man let go of the boy with a push, "Little shit ain't even worth my time." He walked away. 

"Thanks, mister!" the boy said, running off, leaving the crucifix on the ground. Arthur picked it up.

"Hey, you want some company, mister?" a woman asked from just around the corner of an alley. 

"No," Arthur said, brushing the dirt off the crucifix. 

"You sure?" 

Arthur looked up at the woman. "Hey, I know you."

"What?" she backed away. 

"Mrs. Downes?" Shit. The wife of that man, Thomas Downes, he had nearly beaten to death. He may as well have done seeing as the man had died not too long after. 

"Oh no, not you," Mrs. Downes recognised him. "Get away!" She hurried past him. 

"But... how? Are you..." he didn't have time to ask any further as she ran to a passing policeman. 

"Hey! Help! This man is bothering me!" she cried. 

"Aw, shit," Arthur ran down the alley as the policeman blew his whistle and ran after him. When he reached the end of the alley, another policeman blocked his path to the left so Arthur ran to the right, now with two officers on his tail. "Goddamn it," he kept running, trying to shake them. 

He ran down another alley when a door opened and someone pulled him inside. 

"Hey!"

Grace covered his mouth and put her finger to her lips. Outside the closed door, they could hear the policemen running past. When it was quiet, she removed her hand. 

"What did you do?" she asked. 

"Nothing!"

She raised her eyebrows at him. 

"All I did was recognize the wife of that one feller I, uh, beat for a debt," Arthur suddenly felt guilty. Dammit. 

"Downes?" He nodded. "So what if you recognised her?"

"She's working as a, uh..." he couldn't bring himself to even say the word. 

"Oh." Grace took a deep breath. "Shit. Where is she now?" 

"I don't know, she ran to a policeman, saying I was bothering her and they came after me and I ran."

"And no one got shot?"

"No."

"Well I'll be damned, you can walk through a place without shooting people."

"Shut up," he couldn't help but smile a bit, then realised he was still holding the crucifix, "Oh, I need to go to the cathedral." 

"From outlaw to a man of God, who would've thought?" she joked. She opened the door slightly and looked out. "It's clear." He followed her out into the alley. 

"So what is this place?" he asked, pointing at the door. 

"Back door to a shop. I saw you running and figured you were in trouble. So what's with the crucifix?"

"Remember that monk feller, Brother Dorkins? I went to see him and some kid stole this from a nun."

"And is this kid still with us?"

"I didn't touch him, had to threaten some other fella from beating him."

Grace stopped and stared at him, then narrowed her eyes. "Alright, who are you? What have you done with Arthur Morgan?"

"Shut up," he laughed, "I suppose even these little bastard kids deserve a chance."

"Could always recruit them into your gang. I'm sure Dutch would love to corrupt more minds."

"Dutch is not corrupt."

"Oh no, of course not, just going around convincing you all that a big easy pay day is right around the corner."

"You don't know him."

"I know him enough through you."

"He still wants me to bring you back."

"Hah, well, he'll be waiting a while," they turned down a street, "Cathedral's just up here." 

They walked in silence until they arrived, going up to the nun who was talking to the priest. 

"Mr. Morgan!" she greeted him, "and Miss Bellerose, how nice to see you again."

"Hello, Sister Calderon," Grace said. 

"I got your cross," Arthur handed her the crucifix.

"You didn't!" she gasped and took it, "I hope the boy-"

"Oh, he's fine, I mean, physically," said Arthur, "Mentally, he's a piece of work, but who am I to say."

Sister Calderon chuckled. "Brother Dorkins was right about you. You are the most wonderful man."

Arthur burst out laughing. "Brother Dorkins is greatly deceived I'm afraid, but I'm happy to help a little."

"Well I'm sure Miss Bellerose agrees with me." 

"Definitely," Grace said. 

"You see, it's just a thing," Sister Calderon looked over her crucifix, "but my mother gave it to me when I was a novice shortly before she passed. But you are the most wonderful man."

"Heh, well, excuse me, I won't disturb you any further," Arthur turned to walk away. 

"See you later, Sister," Grace said, following Arthur. 

"Keep Miss Bellerose out of trouble, Mr. Morgan!" Sister Calderon called after them. 

"Hah, she must have us mixed up," Arthur joked as they left the precinct. 

"You're the one she called wonderful, I got nothing," Grace laughed, "Anyway, I'll leave you to your day."

"Wait, what, uh, what are you doing today?"

"I have to go to the bookshop."

"Would you, erm, would you like some company?" he asked, feeling strangely nervous. 

"I would love some company," she replied with a smile, "You never know when little ol' me might need protecting from hooligans in a bookshop."

"Hah, you get all sorts out here."

They walked over to the bookshop and Arthur browsed the shelves while Grace went straight back to the stationery section. He wondered what kind of books she read. Did she read those romances that Mary-Beth loves so much? Or does she read mysteries? Adventure stories? He figured she could probably write her own adventure stories with how much she's traveled so far in her young life. 

He headed back to the stationery and saw Grace perusing the journal display. She picked up one journal, flipping through the blank pages, feeling the thickness of the paper between her fingers, and put it back. She repeated it with a few more journals until she found one to her liking. Then she picked out a bottle of fountain pen ink and went to the counter to pay for it. 

"So is there anywhere else you want to go?" he asked when they left. 

"Nope, how about you?"

"Nah." He offered his arm and she took it. As they walked down the street, Arthur wanted the moment to last as long as possible. He didn't care where they went, so long as he was with her. 

"Hey, you there!" a man outside the portrait studio called to them. "Care to have your photo taken? Special offer today, only three dollars!"

Arthur and Grace looked at each other and smiled. "Sure, why not," he said. 

"Ah, wonderful! Right this way!" They followed the photographer into the studio. "You can choose the background and whether or not you'd like to stand or sit."

"I think this one is fine," Grace said regarding the plain background. 

"Excellent, a favourite of my clients," said the photographer. "Now if you could stand there, sir, and ma'am if you'd take his arm." Arthur and Grace did so. "Now, are you married, betrothed, or...?

"Oh, no--" Arthur started. 

"Married for twenty five years with thirteen children," Grace said seriously before she and Arthur burst out laughing. 

"Ah, humour is always good, you two will be happy for a long time," said the photographer as he finished setting up his camera. "Just a few more moments, need to make a couple of adjustments."

"I thought you ain't the marrying kind," he asked her quietly with a smile. 

"I'll make an exception for today," she smiled back. Just then there was a flash and a puff of smoke as the photographer had taken the picture. "Wait, we weren't ready!"

"My apologies, ma'am, but you two look so happy I had to capture the moment," he said, resetting the camera, "No charge for that one, of course." When he was ready, Arthur and Grace stood still so their photo could be taken. "Excellent, now if you'll just wait, I'll have this printed immediately."

"Wow, you can print photographs so quickly these days," said Grace when the photographer left the room. 

"Yeah, think it'll turn out okay?"

"I'm sure it will," she started looking at the portraits on the wall. "Hopefully we don't look as serious as most of these people. Look at this lady, she looks like she just drank vinegar."

"Heh, this feller looks like he ate his own horse for breakfast and asked for seconds," he pointed to a picture of a very large man. Grace snorted and started giggling. She had to turn away when the photographer returned. 

"Here are your prints," he handed a thick envelope to Grace, "I hope they are to your liking."

She removed the photos, each in their own display folder. She opened the first and showed it to Arthur. It was the first one the photographer had taken when they were smiling at each other. Their faces were slightly blurred, but their happiness was unmistakeable. She opened the second photo. They were still smiling slightly and were far less blurry. 

"I love them, thank you," Grace said to the photographer who beamed with pride. Arthur paid him for the prints and they left the studio. "So which one do you want?" she asked. 

"Um..."

"Or would you rather not keep one? After all, you don't need a picture of another woman when you have that lovely one of Mary," she said sincerely. 

"I'll take this one," he said, taking the second print. 

"Good, because I really like this one," she held up the one of them laughing. "Well, it's starting to get late and I ought to get back before Tuula decides to eat a gator or something."

"She doesn't actually eat them, does she?"

"As far as I know," Grace shrugged, "I've seen her eat a frog once. Might explain why she is the way she is." 

"Can I give you a ride? I left my horse at the old church."

"Sure," Grace smiled. They found Arthur's horse grazing quietly outside the old church. Arthur mounted then helped Grace on behind him. She held him around the waist as he urged his horse into a trot. He didn't want to go too quickly. 

When they reached the farm outside of the city, Tuula was grazing outside of the bull's pen with two farmhands standing near the fence. 

"About time you returned," one of them shouted as Grace and Arthur rode up. 

Grace sighed. "What did she do?" she asked as she slid off the back of Arthur's horse. 

"Scared the bejeezus out of our bull, that's what," the other farmhand pointed at the bull who seemed to be cowering in his shed. "She jumped the fence, the bull charged her, and she charged back." 

"And let me guess, she then decided that the grass is better outside the pen."

"Yep."

Grace looked up at Arthur. "Thank you for the lovely day, but now I have to go have a little talk to my problem child." She glared at Tuula who lifted her head, chewing grass innocently. 

"See you later," he said, not wanting to leave just yet, but did anyway. 

When he returned to camp, he went straight up to his room. He sat on his bed and picked up the portrait of Mary he always kept by his bed. He loved her still, but he now realised that was in the past. He carefully put the picture away in his trunk, wrapping it in an old shirt so it wouldn't get damaged. He then took out the picture of Grace and himself, smiled, and placed it by his bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Arthur.


	21. Joy and Tragedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Grace take in a show and things start happening! Or... not. The gang loses another member.

_Got into a fight with a drunk giant with a tiny head. Yes - that's what happened. Fella was strangling a bar keep who had turned off his liquor supply._

_Part of some kind of circus act. The show was run by a woman - Marjorie I think. She's missing a tiny magician. He's run away into the woods. Said if I saw him, I'd send him back to them._

_\--_

_Found the little magician and reunited this odd family. Fella tried to give me the slip a few times but in the end, seems they love each other even more than they hate each other, or at least it was close. Want me to see their show sometime in Saint Denis, and say they'll reward me then as they were broke now._

  
Arthur approached the ticket seller and asked about the arrangement Miss Marjorie had promised. The ticket seller told him that he'll let them know, but the show was going to start soon and to come back afterward. He had never been to a proper theatre before. Mary had asked him to go after he had helped with her father, but he stupidly declined, feeling out of place. Imagine a man like him at a theatre. And yet, here he was. 

"Didn't think you were a theatre person." 

Of course she was here. He turned to her. "I helped one of the acts with a problem and I was promised part of the gate."

"Ah, of course," Grace smiled at him. "Here for the money, not the entertainment."

"Well, I may as well see what it's all about," he stood there awkwardly.

"Best seats are in the balcony." Grace said, handing a ticket to the seller and heading up some stairs to the left. He followed her up and sat next to her. He looked around, amazed at how huge the place was. There were other balcony seating and rows of seats below them up to the stage. He had been to a few magic lantern shows before, but those were in much smaller venues in small towns. 

Soon the lights dimmed and a man in a shiny red coat took the stage. He announced himself as Aldridge T. Abbington and did his banter. But Arthur barely noticed. He kept glancing over at Grace, looking elegant today with her hair in neat curls and wearing a clean navy blue jacket and skirt. He felt very shabby next to her and tried to wipe his hands clean on his pants. 

"I met these odd fellows in a tavern in some godforsaken place, entertaining cretins, they are quite a capricious bunch," announced Aldridge, "Presenting Miss Marjorie and her medical miracles!"

Marjorie came out on stage, cracking a whip, then brought on Bertram, her pin-headed giant. 

"He ain't even as smart as he looks," Marjorie said to the audience, "but what he lacks in brain he makes up for in brawn! Our half-witted Hercules is as strong as a bull but as sweet as a baby." 

Arthur leaned over to Grace. "I fought him up in Van Horn," he said quietly. 

"Really? What were you doing up there?"

"Looking into a robbery tip, but it didn't pan out."

"But why did you fight him?"

"He was trying to kill the barkeep."

"'Sweet as a baby', huh?" she tittered. 

Marjorie invited a man from the audience to take his best punch at Bertram, which he did and seemed to hurt his hand at first. But then the man threw another punch and made Bertram double over. As the man celebrated, Bertram grabbed the man from behind.

"Bertram! No! Bad Bertram!" Marjorie shouted, cracking her whip. Bertram let go of the man and stepped back. 

The man advanced on Marjorie angrily. "What kind of a two-bit show is this? Your freak nearly killed me!" 

"Leave her alone!" Bertram grabbed the man again and held him above his head. 

"Bertram! Put him down!" Marjorie shouted again, cracking her whip. "Bertram!" 

There was suddenly another crack and a puff of coloured smoke and a tiny man appeared on stage. "Mezmero!" Marjorie and Bertram seemed to be stuck in place. "'Tis I, Magnifico the Magnificent!" the small man proclaimed, "And I have tamed the beast! Drop him!" 

Bertram threw the man to the ground with a thump. The man groaned and tried to get up, then fell back to the stage. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, I, Magnifico the Magnificent, am a master of apparition!" there was a puff of smoke and he was suddenly holding a chicken in his hand. "And dissipation!" Another puff of smoke and the chicken had disappeared. 

"Wow," Grace said.

"He can do that to himself too," Arthur said quietly, "Made it real hard trying to catch him."

"Wait, why were you trying to catch him?"

"He had run away from the others and Marjorie asked me to bring him back."

Grace snorted slightly. "Sorry, just the image of you chasing a midget." 

"And now, for my next feat, I will relieve Miss Marjorie of her frock!" Magnifico announced. "Disrobe-io!"

There was a crack and another puff of smoke around Marjorie. When the smoke evaporated, she had her arm covering her bare chest. "What are you doing, you nasty little pervert!" she hissed at Magnifico. 

"We were going to give them a show!"

"Not like that you're not!"

"I give up, pfft, amateurs." Magnifico stalked off stage, kicking Bertram in the shin as he did so. Bertram limped after him. 

"Well, that's our show," Marjorie said, defeated. "Thanks, Saint Denis, all ticket sales are final!" The curtain closed. 

Grace leaned closer to Arthur. "Maybe you should have been up there as her freak strongman," she joked. 

The next act was a troupe of dancing girls from France. 

"Ooh!" 

Grace giggled a little. "These girls are wearing a bit more than the ones I've seen."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mmhm. Quite scandalous but great fun." 

They applauded the dancers when they completed their act. Next up was the Mysterious Maya who came out on stage with a giant boa constrictor. She danced seductively around the stage with the snake around her shoulders and arms. 

"You ever see anything like that before?" Arthur asked Grace. 

"No, never," she said, watching with amazement. "How do you even discover you could do that? I mean, did she wake up one morning and think, 'I'm going to dance with a giant snake today'?"

"Heh, maybe she did."

"And what about the snake? Did she raise it since it hatched, or was it just minding its own business when suddenly some woman plucks him out of the wild and brings it into the city? What if that snake has a family and they're wondering where it went?"

Arthur stifled his laughter as Grace giggled into her hand. They applauded the Mysterious Maya and her snake when they had finished. 

The next act was the great Hortensia, deemed as strong as an ox. 

"Perhaps she should've fought Bertram," Grace said. 

"I don't know who would win that one."

"Well, would you fight her?"

"Not a chance."

They watched as Hortensia bent a metal pipe around her waist, then tore a large book in half with her hands. She then lay down on a table, setting a slab of concrete over her torso as an assistant came out with a sledgehammer. 

"Oh, goodness!" Grace exclaimed. 

The assistant took a swing and broke the concrete to gasps from the crowd. Hortensia leapt up, apparently unharmed. 

The show ended and the lights went up again. 

"Well, time to go get your money," Grace said, standing up. 

"Right," he had almost forgotten about it. She walked with him to the ticket seller, standing to the side as he received the money. 

"So, do you have enough yet?" she asked as they left the theatre. Night had fallen and the streets were lit by lampposts. 

"Far from it," he sighed. "You go here often?"

"Sometimes. There are different acts each time. My favourite is the singer, Robin Koninsky."

"Oh, well, maybe we can go again sometime."

"I'd like that." 

"Where are you staying?"

"Nowhere in particular," she shrugged. 

"A lady shouldn't be out alone," he said. 

"I'm not alone," she smiled at him. He offered her his arm and she linked her arm through his. They walked in silence for a few minutes. 

"Is there anywhere you want to go?"

"No, not really." 

"You still won't come back with me, will you?"

"No."

"We have a house now. An old plantation house, so it's huge. Have my own room." 

"Arthur, I can't stay with you."

"Why not?" He stopped and turned to her. "Why can't you come back with me?"

"Why do you want me to come back with you?"

In a move that surprised even himself, Arthur took her by the shoulders and kissed her. When they parted, she had tears in her eyes. 

"Arthur, I can't." 

"But why not? You haven't said." He stepped back. "Damn it. You already have someone, don't you?"

"No, it's not that."

"Then what?" he demanded. "What is it?"

"It's... it's...." she sighed and looked down. "I'm sorry. I can't explain." 

"Are you in trouble?" he took her hands, "If you're in some sort of trouble, I can help." 

"I'm fine, Arthur," she said. "Don't worry about me." 

"Of course I worry! I never know where you are, where you will be. I worry that every time we meet will be the last time." 

"What if this was our last meeting?"

He didn't hesitate in pulling her back to him and kissing her again. She kissed him back and grabbed his shirt as it grew more intense. He loved her, he was sure of it now, but he couldn't tell her that. Instead he focused on memorising everything about the moment, the softness of her hair in his hand, the way she grasped at his shirt tightly as if she was afraid he would leave, how she tasted. It had been so long since he had kissed anyone with such passion, he couldn't help but wonder what would happen next. 

That is, until a soft clacking sound down the street startled and parted them. 

"I'm sorry, but I can't," Grace said quietly.

"What, why not?" 

"This isn't supposed to happen," she said, more to herself. She looked up at him, tears pouring down her face as she backed away from him. "I'm sorry, Arthur." She hurried away, whistled for her horse and rode away. 

Arthur was left standing there feeling confused and a bit embarrassed. He should've known she wouldn't reciprocate his feelings. With everything he's done in his life, he doesn't deserve her. 

\---

A few days later, Arthur still didn't know what he should do. Find her and apologise? Wait for her to find him and apologise? He was leaning on the balcony railing at Shady Belle with a cigarette trying to figure it out when Dutch joined him. 

"So, the trolley bus station..."

"I don't know, Dutch, it don't seem like the kind of place to have a lot of money."

"I went down there to have a look and I think we can hit it," Dutch said, ignoring Arthur. 

"I ain't never robbed in a city before." Maybe Grace was wrong about the trolley station not having money. She couldn't always be right. 

"Well, you leave the planning to me."

"Just you and me?"

"No, we'll need one more, I reckon." 

Arthur thought for a moment. "I say Lenny."

"Not Micah?"

"Depends if you want a massacre or a pay day." 

"Very funny, I--" Dutch stopped, distracted by something coming down the road, "What is that?"

Arthur turned and looked. A horse was walking into the grounds with a rider on its back. But the rider's head was in his hands. 

Mary-Beth screamed. "It's Kieran!" 

  
_Kieran, that poor kid we spared from O'Driscoll's gang up in the mountains is dead, killed by the bastards. They chopped his head off and tried to kill the lot of us. Mrs. Adler fought braver than any of us. She's driven by powerful forces I scarcely understand. That's what love has done to her, I guess._

  
After the ambush by the O'Driscolls, they gathered around Kieran's body, thrown from the horse when the shooting started. 

"Poor kid," said Dutch, "Mr. Swanson, would you take this boy and bury him someplace near, but not too near."

"Of course," Swanson agreed. 

Hosea picked up Kieran's head, disgusted. "What's this?" He pointed at something white sticking out of the mouth and pulled it out. Arthur recognised it immediately. It was Grace's handkerchief, the same one she offered him back in Valentine to clean his muddy face. 

"Goddamn bastards," Arthur was about to go to his horse when Bill yelled that they still had an O'Driscoll alive. Before anyone could say anything, Arthur took the handkerchief from Hosea and ran over to the O'Driscoll before anyone could kill him. He grabbed the O'Driscoll and showed him the handkerchief. "The girl you took this from, where is she?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he sputtered. 

Arthur punched him hard. "WHERE IS SHE?"

"Fine! Camp, north of Rhodes, doubt you'll find her alive," the O'Driscoll started laughing. Arthur choked him to death then immediately ran to his horse. 

"Arthur! Where are you going?" Dutch yelled after him. Arthur kicked his horse into a gallop down the road. "Charles, follow him. I do not want to bury anyone else today!"

Charles nodded, mounted up, and followed Arthur while the rest of the gang started cleaning up. 

Arthur was forced to slow down not too far from Rhodes, having kicked his horse into a constant gallop he was unable to sustain. Charles soon caught up. 

"What's with you, Arthur?" he asked. 

"They have Grace, that girl from when we met those Germans," Arthur said, wanting to hurry. 

"Okay, let's go get her." 

Once their horses had rested enough, they galloped around to the north of Rhodes. The camp could've been anywhere, and they could all be long gone. 

"Over there," Charles pointed to a plume of thick, black smoke behind some trees. They rode to the edge of the trees and dismounted. 

"I am going to kill every last one of them," Arthur took out his shotgun and loaded it. 

"Easy, we need to see how many first," Charles said calmly. They edged forward through the trees. Wagons encircled the fire and they couldn't tell how many were there. Charles stopped and raised his hand for Arthur to keep quiet. He listened for a few moments. "You hear that?"

"No."

"Exactly. Let's be careful." 

They reached the inner edge of the trees, just at the wagons. They peeked under the wagons for a better look and were horrified. They stood and walked around the wagon to see a pile of dead O'Driscolls, all burning. Just when they were wondering what happened here, something caught Arthur's eye. 

Tuula was standing by one of the other wagons, her head down to seemingly comfort Grace who was kneeling in the grass, covered in blood. Her blouse had been torn open, exposing her breasts and her skirt was torn and ripped as well. She was staring into the fire and seemed to be a million miles away. 

"Grace!" Arthur hurried over to her, removing his jacket and putting it around her. 

"I tried," she said quietly. 

"It's okay now," Arthur untied his bandana and started gently wiping the blood off her face. 

"I tried to save him," she said, looking up at him. 

"Who, Kieran?" 

She nodded. "They caught me, and... and..." she started sobbing, "They made me watch as they... and they killed him, and..." Arthur pulled her close, hugging her tightly as she cried into his shoulder. 

"It's okay, you're safe now," he said, rubbing her back. 

"Then they left and the others tried to..." she couldn't continue and sobbed even harder. 

Arthur tried to contain his anger. "Grace, did they do anything to you?" She shook her head. 

"They tried but I fought and... I called Tuula and..." 

"Okay, we're going to bring you back with us, we'll take care of you," Arthur reassured her. 

"I'll get the horses," said Charles. 

When Grace had calmed down a bit, Arthur helped her onto his horse and they rode back to camp with Tuula following. He had wanted her to come back with him, but not like this. When they arrived, he helped her off his horse. 

"Why did you run off like that, Arthur? I-- oh," Dutch approached and stopped when he saw Grace. "So.. this is her, then?"

Arthur nodded. "We need Susan." 

"Of course," Dutch turned towards the house, "Miss Grimshaw! We need you!"

"Yes, what is it?" Miss Grimshaw came out of the house. "Oh my lord, what happened here?" She rushed over to Grace and Arthur. 

"Fought off some O'Driscolls while trying to save Kieran," said Arthur. 

"Bring her up to your room, and I'll get Miss Jackson," Miss Grimshaw said, turning back to the house. 

Arthur carried Grace into the house and up to his room, sitting her on the bed. "You're safe here now." Grace nodded slightly and he kissed her forehead. 

"Alright, Mr. Morgan, out," Miss Grimshaw ordered. He left the room as she and Tilly entered and shut the door. He rubbed his eyes and went downstairs where it seemed like the whole gang had gathered. 

"Well, I had hoped you would bring her here under better circumstances," said Dutch, "But did she really try to save Kieran?"

Arthur nodded. "They caught her and made her watch them murder him. Then while they were ambushing us, they tried to.. well.. you know, but she fought back. When we got there, there was a whole pile of dead O'Driscolls."

"She did that? All by herself?" Bill asked, sceptically. 

"Well, her horse may have helped," Arthur nodded slightly towards the door. 

"But why?" Dutch asked. "Why is she helping us?"

"I don't know," Arthur shrugged.

"Well, sounds like we have a lot to thank her for," said Dutch, "But for now, I think we'll let her recuperate." 

When the gang had dispersed, Arthur sat at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Miss Grimshaw and Tilly to come down. Sadie sat next to him. 

"Sounds like she hates the O'Driscolls as much as I do," she said. 

"Seems to."

"She really do all those things?"

"Yep."

"Huh. Well, she sounds like a mighty fine woman. Don't lose this one." She patted his shoulder and left. 

"Mr. Morgan," Miss Grimshaw came downstairs followed by Tilly, who was carrying Grace's bloody clothes. 

"How is she?" Arthur stood. 

"I think she'll be fine, physically, anyway," said Miss Grimshaw, "A few cuts and bruises, but most of that blood weren't even hers. You may go up now. We gave her something clean to wear. Come along, Miss Jackson, let's burn these rags. I don't want no O'Driscoll blood stinking up my camp."

Arthur rushed upstairs and knocked on the door before opening it. Grace was sitting on his bed, wearing a clean white nightgown, and staring down at her hands. 

"I'm so sorry," she said quietly. 

"Nah, you have nothing to be sorry for," he pulled a chair up and sat in front of her. 

"I should've done more."

He took her hands in his. "Why didn't you come find me?"

"It might've been too late." She sniffled and wiped her eyes, looking off to the side. She frowned slightly at the picture of her and Arthur. "Where's your picture of Mary?"

"I put it away." 

"Why?" 

"Because what we had was in past."

Grace took a deep breath. "Arthur, please don't give her up."

"But--"

"Please," she said, "You would be better off with her than with me."

"Grace--"

"I need to lie down now." She pulled back the blanket and lay down, facing the wall. Arthur stayed sitting for a few minutes before getting up and moving the chair. He'll let her have the room to herself tonight while she recovers from her ordeal. He sat on the porch beside the front door, leaned against the wall, and fell asleep. 

When he woke, Lenny informed him Grace had already left. Tilly had lent her a dress to wear. Arthur went upstairs to find his bed neatly made and the nightgown she had worn folded on it. The picture of him and Grace was replaced by the one of Mary. 


	22. Ice and Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Grace spend more time up in the snow, then go back to camp.

Arthur searched his room for the photo of himself and Grace but couldn't find it. Instead he found the pouch full of money he didn't take from the pirate ship. He was annoyed that she had gone through his things to find Mary's picture, but he was also confused. Perhaps he got the wrong idea of what she wanted. Maybe he shouldn't have kissed her. 

He needed to find her. 

He rushed downstairs and out the door to his horse. Where would she have gone? Maybe to her cabin? But he didn't know where exactly that was. She might have gone back to Saint Denis, but he didn't think she'd want to be around so much noise right now. 

Of course. He knew where she went. 

  
The ride up back to the mountains took a while. The sun was already setting as Arthur rode down the hill to the frozen lake. Grace was skating with her ice hockey stick, wearing long pants today instead of the wool skirt from the last couple of times they'd been here. She was hitting wooden pucks through the rocks she set up as goal posts. She didn't seem to notice him riding up, or if she did, she was ignoring him. He rode around to the cabin and hitched his horse near Tuula. 

When Grace still didn't acknowledge his presence, he went into the cabin to retrieve his skates, put them on and slowly skated out to her. 

"You okay?" he asked when he was near enough. 

She didn't say anything, but shot another goal. 

"Grace," he skated closer to her. 

"Why are you here?" she demanded. 

"To find you."

"Did you find the money?"

"Yes."

"Then why haven't you all left?"

"Because I ain't keeping it."

"Oh, for god's sake!" she hit the next puck so hard her stick splintered. She threw it across the ice angrily and turned to him. "I am giving you a chance to get the hell out and actually live! Why aren't you taking it?"

"Because I don't want to leave you!" 

"But you have to."

"Why?"

Grace didn't speak for a moment, then sighed. "You will eventually."

"What does that mean?"

"They all leave in the end," she said quietly. 

"Well I ain't leaving you," he skated next to her and took her hand, "I promise."

She pulled her hand away. "Don't make promises you can't keep." She turned and skated back to the cabin. Arthur gathered all the wooden pucks strewn about the ice and her broken stick and brought them back. He changed into his boots and went into the cabin. 

Grace was sitting on her bed with her knees drawn up to her chest. Arthur took off his coat, hung it up and sat on the bed next to her. 

"You're right," he said after a moment, "I shouldn't make promises I can't keep." 

She didn't say anything but sniffled slightly. He moved closer and put his arm around her. She leaned into him heavily and he hugged her close. 

"Sorry for leaving like that," she said. 

"It's fine."

"They probably think I ran off to rat you all out."

"Nah."

"Pfft, like you wouldn't think that if it were someone else."

"Yeah, you're probably right, as usual."

"Are you making fun of me?" she pulled away, narrowing her eyes at him before breaking into a small smile. 

"If I was making fun of you, you'd know it," he smiled back. 

"Have you eaten yet?" 

"Not for a while, no."

Grace stood and ladled out some stew from a pot on the firestove and handed it to him. She sat at the table, opened her journal and started writing. Arthur watched her as he ate, still sitting on the bed.

"You're left-handed," he said between bites. 

"Keenly observed, Sherlock," she said without looking up. 

"What'd you call me?"

"Sherlock, as in Sherlock Holmes. It's a character, a detective in a series of mystery novels. Terrific reads."

"Ah, so you read mysteries."

"I read all sorts of things."

"What's your favourite?"

She paused to think. "Oh, gosh, there are so many. Maybe 'The Castle of Wolfenbach', that was my favourite when I was younger. Probably because I wasn't allowed to read it."

"Why not?"

"It was considered unsuitable," Grace smirked to herself, "But I took off the cover and pasted on a cover of a different book so it looked like I was reading some dreadful romance instead."

"You degenerate."

"I know, I should be in jail," she laughed. She was about to return to writing when she noticed Arthur staring at her. "What?"

"It's nice to hear you laugh."

"Well, I suppose it's better than being angry, which I still am, by the way."

"Why?"

"Because you still won't take my money and leave, you idiot, and I don't understand why you won't."

"You know why."

She sighed deeply. "Arthur, we can't be together the way we want to be."

"Yeah, so you keep saying," he stood and set his empty dish on the table. He put his coat back on and went outside to light up a cigarette. He leaned on the railing Grace had repaired. Maybe he was the idiot, not taking the money so they could all leave. But he didn't understand why she wouldn't go along with them. But if she did, how could he keep her safe? She nearly died trying to save poor Kieran. She nearly died saving Jack and John when they fell in the river. She risked her life getting into the Bronte house to look after Jack until they got him. 

Maybe she was right. They couldn't be together. He didn't want her becoming like him, like them. And he knew he couldn't change. If he didn't change for Mary, why would he for Grace? Maybe he didn't actually love her like he thought he did. 

Arthur flicked the cigarette butt into the snow and went back inside. Grace was in her bed facing the wall with the blankets nearly pulled up over her head. He sat at the table and took out his own journal to write a bit. Her journal was still on the table, lying open. He quickly glanced over at Grace and reached for it. He knew he shouldn't, but curiosity got the better of him. 

He frowned at the writing. It wasn't even English. It didn't even look like English. Of course she'd probably write in some other language, whatever this one is. He carefully turned the pages, wondering what they said. He put it back in its place. 

"Was it a good read?"

"Jesus!" He jumped in his chair and looked over to see Grace facing him and smirking slightly. "Sorry."

"Eh, if you figured out how to read it, I'd be impressed," she shrugged slightly under the blankets. 

"Yeah, well, I only know English, and badly at that."

"It is written in English."

Arthur frowned. "No, it ain't." He picked up her journal again. "I don't even know these letters."

"Well, there's a trick to reading it."

"What is it?"

"A girl needs to have some secrets, you know."

"Heh. So, you gonna come back with me? They didn't get a chance to meet you properly."

Grace thought for a moment. "Yes, I'll go back with you. Good night, Arthur."

"Good night." 

He waited until she was asleep before lying down in the other bed and stared at the ceiling for what seemed like hours before finally falling asleep. He dreamt of her, as he usually did these nights, especially after that evening in Saint Denis, even if it didn't end well. Does she dream of him too? 

  
The following morning, Arthur woke up to an empty cabin. He figured she was outside skating, but then he noticed her skates were still lying by the firestove. She must be feeding the horses. He went outside, but didn't see her. Tuula was gone too. 

Damn it. She said she would go back to camp with him! How could she do this to--

His thoughts were interrupted by a pile of snow falling on his head and Grace snorting with laughter somewhere behind him. 

"What the--" he brushed the snow off himself and looked around for her. But he didn't see her. He frowned slightly, then heard a whistle. He looked up and got another pile of snow to the face. 

"That's for not taking the money," Grace said. 

Arthur brushed the snow off himself and saw Grace crouched on the roof of the cabin. "How'd you get up there?"

"I climbed."

"Where's your horse?"

"Over there," she pointed around the side of the lake. Tuula was pawing through the snow behind some trees. 

"How are you getting down?"

"So many questions," Grace smiled down at him, "I'll probably jump off. It's not that far." 

"Well, come on then," he held his arms out to her. 

"I think I can manage myself, thank you," she said, "I'm not totally helpless." 

"Just don't want to see you hurt, is all."

"Gosh, well good thing you're here. What ever would I do without you?" Grace stood and dramatically put her hand to her forehead, took a few steps back and slid backward off the other side of the cabin. 

"Grace!" Arthur rushed to the other side of the cabin. She was on her back in the snow, eyes closed and not moving. "Damn it," he ran to her side. "Grace?" He gently shook her shoulders. "Come on, wake up." 

He got another face full of snow and fell back from the force and sudden coldness. As he was wiping the snow off his face, she sat up laughing. 

"My hero," she grinned before dumping more snow on him. 

"Stop doing that!" 

"Why? Is it annoying?"

"Yes!" 

"Oh." There was a pause and she threw more snow in his face. 

"Why are you being so annoying?"

"Imagine how less annoying I'd be if you just took the money and left."

Arthur groaned. "Is that what this is about?"

"Yes! Well, mostly."

"Mostly?"

"It's fun," Grace grinned at him. 

"For you, maybe."

"Exactly." She threw more snow at him. He narrowed his eyes and then threw snow back at her. They fought in the snow until he pinned her down with her hands over her head. 

"You gonna stop?" 

"You gonna take the money?"

Arthur let go of her hands and sat up, sighing. 

"Arthur, don't be stupid," she leaned up on her elbows, "You know damn well that if you took the money, you can all leave and no one else will die."

"I know," he said quietly. 

"I can't go with you when you do."

"Why not?"

"I just can't. What would I even do?"

"Well, you could--" Arthur stopped. What would she do if she joined them? And for that matter, what would the rest of them do if they left? Would they just stop their criminal ways to do... what? "Well, what do you want?"

"I want you to get off me."

"Oh, sorry," he stood and helped her up. She brushed snow off her back. 

"Well, let's get going," she walked past him. 

"Go where?"

She stopped and turned to him. "Aren't we going back to your camp? So I can meet everyone properly, as you said?"

"Right. Well then you can give them the money when we get there."

"Only if you take it first."

"Why are you being a stubborn ass?"

"Why are _you_?" 

They stared each other down with narrowed eyes until they both started laughing at the same time. Grace whistled for Tuula and tacked her up while Arthur tended to his horse. They mounted up and rode out. 

"You know, something's been bugging me," said Arthur. 

"Yeah, me," Grace tittered.

"Hah, yes, but something else. Why did you take those Cornwall papers from the mayor's office?" 

"Hm?"

"Back at the mayor's fancy party. I got caught but you went in and got them. Why?"

"Oh, well, I figured since you got caught, someone else might try and if they were unsuccessful, who's to say it wouldn't end in a bloodbath?" she paused. "Besides, I've not heard a single nice thing about Mr. Cornwall so I don't care if you robbed him blind." 

"That doesn't sound like you."

Grace shrugged. "There are some very nasty people out there who deserve everything that's coming to them."

"Even Leviticus Cornwall?"

"Especially Leviticus Cornwall," she paused, "He's had people killed to reduce competition."

"That don't surprise me."

"Be careful with whatever you're planning for him."

"I will."

  
They camped in the Heartlands before arriving back at Shady Belle the following afternoon. Charles greeted them as they rode in. They dismounted near Hosea who was brushing his horse. 

"Ah, you came back," Hosea said. 

"Sorry for leaving so abruptly," said Grace, "Just needed some time."

"Understandable, but glad to have you back. Everyone's been wanting to meet you."

"Should I be worried?" 

"Very," Hosea joked, "But I'm sure you'll still leave in one piece."

"That is my preferable method of existing," she laughed. 

"Well, let's go meet the rest of our band of degenerates," Hosea led her across the small bridge with Arthur following just as the door to the house opened. Dutch came out, followed by Abigail and Jack. 

"Miss Grace!" shouted Jack as he ran to her. She knelt down and hugged him tightly. 

"Hello, Jack," she said, "Have you been well?"

"Oh yes," he said. 

"Still reading?"

"Yep!" 

"Good," she reached into her satchel, took out a book and handed it to him, "I think you'll like this one."

"Thanks!" Jack clutched the book to his chest. 

"So you're the Miss Grace he's been talking about?" asked Abigail. 

"Yes," Grace stood up. "When Arthur told me that Angelo Bronte had Jack, I wanted to help and make sure he was okay."

"Thank you so much," Abigail said, "I don't know what I'd do if--"

"I know, I understand," Grace said. 

"Arthur said you'd been helping us," said Dutch, "But I'm just wondering why." 

"Guess I just like helping people," Grace shrugged. 

"Oh, let the girl come in," Miss Grimshaw interrupted and led Grace over to the campfire, "It's good to see you feeling better. Have a seat, tell us about yourself." 

"Um, there isn't much to tell, really," Grace sat on one of the logs as the other gang members gathered around. 

"How did you meet Arthur?" Mary-Beth asked eagerly. 

"Oh, I just noticed he'd been following me around," Grace laughed. 

"Oh no, you were the one following me," Arthur said. 

"Well, either way, we kept running into each other."

"Oh. I was hoping for something more romantic," Mary-Beth sighed. 

"Well I'm just glad you're getting over that Mary Gillis, Arthur," Miss Grimshaw said. 

"It's nothing like that, I'm sure Arthur much prefers Mary over me. I imagine she's far less annoying." 

"You was in Strawberry, wasn't ya?" asked Micah. "I think I remember you." 

"I certainly remember you, Mr. Bell," she said. "You made some extremely crude suggestions at me."

"Heheheh, that I did," Micah laughed. 

"And if you weren't already in jail at that time, I would've cut 'em off," Grace smiled at him, "I still might."

Everyone laughed and they all chatted for a while until Pearson announced the stew was ready. Grace stood up, but Miss Grimshaw told her to sit down, they'd bring her some. 

"Here you go," Arthur handed her a bowl of stew and a chunk of bread then sat next to her with his own. 

"Thanks," she started eating. "Oo, this is good."

"It's okay, you don't need to lie," said Karen. 

"No, I'm being serious," Grace dipped her bread into the stew, "Maybe I'm just not that good of a cook."

"Better be careful, Arthur, if Pearson hears that he'll try to marry her," laughed Bill. 

"Aw, it isn't like that," Grace said before Arthur could say anything. "Despite what you all seem to think, there isn't anything between Arthur and me."

"Now I don't believe that for a second," said Miss Grimshaw, "Not with the way you two have been looking at each other since you got here." 

When they had finished eating, the gang dispersed from the campfire, going about their evening duties. Grace had disappeared, but she must still be around because Tuula was still with the other horses. Arthur looked around until he heard her talking to Molly in a shed behind the house. 

"I don't know what to do," Molly cried. 

"I know, it's hard," Grace replied, "But you need to decide whether it's worth staying or not. Clearly you're not happy, so why not move on?"

"Because... because I still love 'im!"

"Love is a fickle thing. Don't let that cloud your judgement over what's best for you."

"But... what would you do if you were in love and Arthur stopped lovin' you back?"

"I'd move on. Life's too short to stay with people who make you unhappy."

"I guess so."

"You deserve to be happy, Molly."

"Thanks."

"Any time."

Arthur watched Molly go back to the house, wiping her tears but with a slight smile on her face. He joined Grace who was just lighting up a cigarette. 

"At least she's talking to someone," he said, lighting up a cigarette himself. 

"Apparently everyone here despises her."

"Nah, we don't despise her," he said, "Well, maybe just a little because she don't help out or anything."

"Yeah, I got that impression. She's really hung up on Dutch, huh?"

"Poor girl."

"There you are!" Sadie said, joining them. "Snuck away for a little alone time?"

"Just having a smoke," said Arthur. 

"Hold on, I have something for you," Grace stamped out her cigarette and reached into her satchel. 

"For me?" Sadie asked, curious. 

"Ah, here it is," she handed Sadie a locket necklace, "It took a bit of work." 

"Thank you, it's--" she gasped when she opened it. "It's from our wedding picture. But how?"

"Saw your house burning down, went in to see if I could save anything for you," Grace shrugged. 

"Wait, you ran into a burning house for someone you didn't even know?" Arthur asked. 

"Apparently." 

"I'm... I don't know what to say," said Sadie, her eyes brimming with tears, "I thought I'd never see my Jakey's face again." 

"It was no problem," Grace smiled at her. "I mean, apart from getting slightly burnt and then restoring what I could of the picture."

Sadie said nothing but smiled back and walked away, still looking at the pictures in the locket. 

"Any other surprises you want to pull out of your sleeve?" Arthur asked.

"I've still got all that money you keep refusing," she said. 

"Yeah, yeah."

They returned to the campfire. 

"Enjoy your time aloooone?" Uncle teased them. 

"It was quiet without you," Arthur said. 

"Well that's 'cause you ain't had a drink yet!"

"Do you drink, Miss... erm, sorry, what is your surname?" asked Miss Grimshaw. 

"Bellerose, and yes I do." 

"Well don't just stand there, Arthur, go get her a drink!" 

He could hear Grace smirking a bit as he went to get a couple of beers for them. When he returned, she was chatting enthusiastically with Javier in Spanish. 

"Did you know she spoke Spanish?" Lenny asked as Arthur handed Grace a beer. 

"She speaks all sorts of languages," Arthur sat next to him, "Been all over the world, it seems."

"Not quite," Grace said, "But maybe one day."

"Well, must be nice to have the means to do so much travelling," said Dutch. 

"If I may ask, but what is your plan, Mr. van der Linde?" Grace asked. 

Dutch hesitated then leaned forward toward her. "We need money first."

"I know that, but I meant after you get the money."

"We are going to escape the shackles of this godforesaken country and move to Tahiti."

Grace snorted out laughing. Dutch looked offended, while Arthur tried to keep himself from laughing too. He didn't know what exactly was so funny, but her laughter was contagious.

"Sorry, but seriously?" she said, wiping a tear from her eye. 

"Is there something wrong with that?" Dutch glared at her. 

"Well, for one, do any of you speak Tahitian? Or French?" she looked around and everyone shook their heads. "Not many people who speak English in the city. Plus it's very warm and humid there, which is fine if you like that sort of weather, but then you have possible cyclones."

"Cyclones?" asked Abigail.

"Windy rainstorms, like hurricanes," Grace said. "Then there's the volcano, which may or may not be active, I don't know, I didn't find out."

"Volcano?!"

"Wait, have you been to Tahiti?" asked Hosea. 

"A few years back. Went with a painter friend." 

"A few years ago, wait, how old are you?" asked Bill. 

"Old enough," Grace took a sip of her beer. 

Arthur looked around at the others. Dutch was clearly annoyed, while Hosea looked amused. The rest just looked a bit confused. Dutch had been telling them that they would leave America for a paradise, but should they believe him or someone who says she's actually been there? 

"Well, I can tell I've hit a nerve and I apologise," said Grace, "Frankly, I think you're better off escaping up to Canada. It might not be the tropical paradise you want, but you will certainly find plenty of space to get lost in."

"We'll take it into consideration," said Hosea. 

"Anyway, it's getting late," Grace stood up, "It's been a wonderful evening, but I must be going."

"Oh, we can't let you go out at this time alone," said Miss Grimshaw, "You can stay."

"No, I'll be okay," said Grace. 

"Well if you insist," Miss Grimshaw said. "Arthur, aren't you going to say good night to her?"

Arthur got up and walked with Grace to the footbridge to the horses. She stopped and turned to Arthur. 

"Um, they're all watching," she said. 

"Probably waiting for me to kiss you," he said. 

"Ah, well let's disappoint them," she said with a smile and held out her hand. "I had a lovely time, Mr. Morgan."

"So did I, Miss Bellerose," Arthur smiled as he shook her hand. 

"See you around." Grace turned and mounted Tuula, waved to everyone at camp and rode out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grace may have enjoyed talking shit to Dutch a little too much.


	23. The River Boat and the Art Gallery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grace accompanies Arthur to a high stakes poker game. It does not go well. They also go to an art gallery, which also does not go well. Arthur meets Mary one last time.

It's been two days since Grace had visited. The money was still in Arthur's trunk. He found the picture of himself and Grace buried at the bottom and he put it back by his bed. The picture of Mary was carefully put back in his trunk. Most of the others had told them they enjoyed Grace's company and hoped he would bring her back sometime. Bill and Micah were suspicious, and while Dutch said Grace was nice, he still seemed bitter by her comments about the plan to go to Tahiti. Even so, Arthur couldn't help but be a bit amused. 

Arthur was about to head out when he was intercepted by Trelawny. 

"Are you ready to win some money tonight?"

"Huh?"

"The poker tournament out on the Lannahechee River boat, surely Dutch has already told you."

"Oh, right." 

"But first, we need to get you smartened up a bit."

"What? Why?"

"Well you can't play at the tables looking like this," Trelawny gestured to Arthur's clothing. 

"Why not?"

"Because, dear boy, you need to fit in so well no one realises you're there to rob the place, now come on." 

They mounted their horses and rode into the city. 

"I met your lovely Miss Bellerose yesterday while I was in the city."

"You did?" 

"And she agreed to go along with us."

"She did?" Arthur was surprised. Why on earth would she agree to be a part of a robbery like this?

"I explained everything and asked her to pretend, or not as the case appears to be, to go along as your dear wife. She seems to be able to play the part of a high society lady quite well so perhaps some of that will rub off on you."

Arthur and Trelawny rode to the tailor's where Arthur, again, had to pick out a fancy suit. Then it was off to the barber to get his hair trimmed and face shaved. 

"So what's the plan then?" Arthur asked. 

"Oh, it's very easy, indeed. You'll play cards and win. And you're going to bet very big and flamboyantly while you win. When you bust the place, they'll take you upstairs to pay you off and that is when Javier comes in and you take whatever you want."

"You don't think they might see an armed Mexican coming into the safe with me?" 

"Sure, they might. But perhaps not. You will see."

After the barber, Trelawny led him to a small coach outside. "I've arranged some transportation for us."

"What about Grace?" Arthur asked.

"She will meet us there." They stepped into the coach. "And look at you, from toad to prince."

"This is a bit much, ain't it?"

"You're a brash oil man with money to burn! Which reminds me, no shuffling and mumbling." 

"So, how's this supposed to work then?"

"Strauss will sit in your eyeline and give you cues. The dealer has become a good friend of mine and he will make sure you are dealt the right cards."

"What could possibly go wrong?" Arthur said sarcastically. "And what money will I be playing with?"

"Don't worry, that has all been arranged. Ah! Here we are." The coach pulled up to the dock where a large river boat was moored. Trelawny turned to Arthur. "Leave any weapony here. They'll search us when we get on."

Arthur reluctantly removed his gun belt after Trelawny promised the coach driver was a good friend and they would collect it later. He then followed Trelawny to the docks where Strauss, Javier, and Grace were already waiting. She was wearing a fancy violet dress with a matching brimmed hat. 

"Ah, Mrs. Callahan, how wonderful to see you again," Trelawny greeted her loudly. 

"Likewise," she said.

"I see you've met our friends from New York," he gestured to Javier and Strauss. 

"Yes, they've just been telling me how much it's changed since I've last been," she turned to Arthur, "All set, darling?"

"I guess so," he smiled down at her. 

"Well come along then! Champagne is on dear old Arthur!" Trelawny led the way to the boat. Grace took Arthur's arm as they followed. 

"I can't believe he managed to talk you into this," he said to her quietly. 

"Neither can I, but it could be fun," she replied with a smile. 

"You look nice."

"Thanks, so do you. You should dress up more often."

When they boarded, they found a private room to enjoy some champagne before Arthur went down to the poker tables.

"So who will Arthur be playing against?" Grace asked.

"A man called Desmond Blythe, made his fortune in hosiery."

"Oh, him."

"You've heard of him?" Arthur asked. 

"I met him once a few years ago. I found him rude and full of himself." 

"Well then, I don't think I'll feel too bad about robbing the bastard," said Arthur. 

"And you promise no one will get hurt?" Grace turned to Trelawny.

"Of course! Well, perhaps a bit of coercion will be in order when they bring Arthur up to the safe."

"But no deaths."

"There will be no need for that," Trelawny stated. 

When they had finished, it was time for Arthur to head down. Grace accompanied him to the main floor. 

"Good luck," she said, "Don't lose all of our money," she added with a wink.

He kissed her quickly on the cheek and she joined a couple other women at one end of the room. 

  
It took only a few hands to bust out Desmond Blythe, much to his annoyance. Arthur followed the pit boss up to the safe, accompanied by Javier who had changed into a guard's uniform. Once at the safe, Javier knocked out the guard up there and threatened the pit boss to hand over his gun to Arthur. Before they could loot the safe, the pit boss pulled another gun and Arthur shot and killed him. 

"Damn, I'm sure someone heard that," Javier said, "Hurry up."

Arthur took everything he could and they returned to the main floor, acting like nothing had happened. Just before he reached the bar, Grace took his arm and pulled him aside. 

"Did I just hear a gunshot?" she whispered at him. 

"It's fine," he replied. 

"Dammit, Arthur," she hissed. 

"I had no choice!" he said quietly, "Let's... let's just keep this charade up for a bit longer, okay?"

She didn't say anything, but nodded and put on a smile as they went over to the bar. Desmond Blythe was arguing with Trelawny. 

"No sir, my friend is not a 'no good cheat' and I beg you to take back the insinuation!" said Trelawny. 

"There he is!" Blythe pointed at Arthur, 

"Now, don't be a sore loser, friend," Arthur moved himself in front of Grace. 

"There's something I don't like about the lot of you!"

"There's plenty I don't like about you," Trelawny stood and faced him, "but I have the good manners to keep my mouth shut."

Before anyone could say anything else, a man in just his undergarments appeared and pointed at Javier. "There he is, shoot that man!" The other guard turned to Javier who shot him then threw his gun to Arthur. Arthur grabbed Grace and they ran behind the bar to take cover. 

"Come on, we gotta get out of here!" yelled Javier. 

"How the hell are we going to get out? We're in the middle of the river!" Grace asked Arthur angrily. 

"Stay behind me," he ordered. He looked over the bar and shot a few of the guards before grabbing Grace's hand running out. He and Javier shot more guards as they made a run for the deck with Strauss and Trelawny close behind. Arthur ran for the railing, still holding Grace's hand, when she stopped. 

"Wait!" she yelled, as she started unbuttoning her dress. 

"What are you doing, we have to go!"

"I can't swim wearing all this! I'll drown!" 

"Let's go, Arthur!" Javier yelled as he jumped over the railing. Strauss and Trelawny jumped as well. 

"Dammit!" Arthur ripped the dress off along with the bustle until Grace was in only her underthings and they leaped into the water just as more guards reached the deck. 

They swam to shore, which thankfully wasn't as far as they had initially thought. Trelawny, Strauss, and Javier were already on the dock by the time Grace and Arthur caught up. Arthur went up first, took off his jacket, and held it out for Grace as she climbed up. The water had made her undergarments transparent and she put Arthur's jacket on gratefully. 

"Well, never a dull moment," Trelawny joked. 

Grace marched over and slapped him across the face. "You said no one will get hurt!"

"Ah, yes, that was an unfortunate miscalculation," Trelawny said, rubbing his cheek. 

"Now wait a minute--" Arthur started before Grace turned and slapped him hard. 

"And you! Just... URGH!" She threw up her hands and whistled shrilly. Tuula came barreling down the street and slid to a stop by Grace. "You can all just rot!" She jumped on her horse and galloped away. 

They were left in silence until Trelawny spoke. 

"Well, not to worry, dear boy, I'm sure she'll forgive you in no time."

"Maybe," Arthur said quietly. He doubted she'd forgive him so quickly. They managed to steal a few thousand from the safe, plus a valuable pocket watch. But was it really worth it?

  
Arthur wondered where Grace had gone. Did she return to the mountains? Or go home to her cabin? Or was she still in Saint Denis somewhere? He decided not to try to find her, to give her time to cool down. Until then, he made frequent visits to the city, hoping to see her again. 

  
_Met a curious French man in a bar. Bought him a drink and he gave me a picture. Said he was an artist._

  
Arthur looked at the letter Charles Chatenay had sent him and then up at the signs on the buildings, trying to find the Galerie Laurent. It should be down this street somewhere. He bumped into a passerby. 

"Oh, sorry, miss," he said before recognizing who it was. "Grace!"

"Hello Arthur," she said coolly. 

"Listen, I'm sorry about what happened," he said. 

"I'm sure you are." 

"No, really, I am, but you see, I--" he stopped. He didn't know how to tell her that if he took her money, he'd have to leave with the gang too. He had made a promise to Dutch and he intended to keep that promise. But he didn't want to leave Grace either. 

"No, I understand," she said. "You can't help it. It's how you grew up. God forbid you ever try to earn money honestly." 

She turned to walk away, but Arthur grabbed her arm. 

"Do you want to go to an art gallery with me?"

"What? Why?"

"Some feller I helped, an artist, is showing his paintings," he said, "I said I'd stop by." 

Grace thought about it and then sighed. "Fine. Why not?"

Arthur offered his arm and she reluctantly took it. They walked up to the next block where they found the gallery. Heading upstairs, she admired a few paintings on the walls. 

They entered the first room with large photographs. 

"It's you!" she said, forgetting she was angry at him, pointing at a large photo of Arthur on the wall. 

"Heh, I met this feller, Albert Mason, out in the woods taking pictures," he said, then pointed to a photo of a coyote with a bag in its mouth. "This coyote stole his bag and I had to chase him until he gave it up."

They moved to the next photo of a pack of wolves. 

"How did he get this one?" Grace asked. 

"He hung some meat from a tree to lure the wolves in," Arthur shook his head, "I had to stop them from eating him."

"Goodness."

"At least this one, he didn't have to worry about being eaten," he pointed to a picture of horses galloping through water. 

"Oh, this one's beautiful."

"I may have helped herd them past him." 

"He's lucky to have met you," they moved to the next photo, "So did you have to help him with the gators too?"

"Yeah, I rowed him out to get some pictures. Even had me go into the reeds to lure one out for him."

"You actually did that?" Grace's eyes widened, "How much did he pay you?"

"Nothing."

Grace stared at him. "Wait, you did all this for nothing?"

"Yeah, well, he did give me a print of the wolves."

"See? You are a good man." 

Arthur laughed and they moved on to the next photo of eagles flying. "I suppose I am sometimes. This fool nearly fell off a cliff taking these pictures."

"And then you saved him, right?"

"Yeah, I have to admit, I like the guy."

"I think I like him too and I've never met him."

They moved on to the next photo, one that neither of them had realised had been taken. 

It was of Grace and Arthur kissing under a lamppost. Even though they were just a silhouette in the light, they both recognized themselves. Grace looked up at Arthur and they couldn't help but smile at each other. 

"Oh, how romantic!" a woman behind them exclaimed, pointing out the photo to her husband. 

"Is this what constitutes as art? Kissing in public? Dreadful," her husband sniffed. 

"I know, how awful," Grace said, trying not to giggle. 

"Speaking of awful, I see Mr Chatenay in the next room," said Arthur. They left and went into the next room to see lurid paintings of mostly women in the nude. 

"Well," was all Grace could say as she looked at one of the paintings. 

"It's a disgrace," said the lady next to her. "The unclothed figure, it's unnatural!"

"I disagree, the naked form is the most natural we can be," Grace said, "It's quite beautiful, actually." 

"It's disgusting!" the lady strode off. 

"You think this is beautiful?" Arthur asked, pointing at the painting. 

"Well, maybe not the painting itself, but the human body is," she said. "Though, I suppose if you tilt your head this way and squint a bit it looks... okay?"

"Monsieur Morgan," Charles Chatenay approached them, "And who is this beautiful lady?"

"I'm Grace," she said. 

"Ah, I should've known, such a pretty name for a pretty face," he then turned to Arthur, "You must let me paint 'er."

"That ain't up to me," said Arthur. 

"Not a chance," said Grace. 

"But my dear lady," Charles took her hand, "you must let me share you with ze world." 

"I'd rather keep myself for a select few, thank you," she said, taking back her hand. She walked away to inspect the other paintings. 

"Hey, you got a picture of my wife here in her delicates!" said one of the patrons.

Another woman gasped. "Henry! Is that your behind? Why would you be showing it to that man?" 

"That's my momma!" a man exclaimed, "As nude as the day she was born!" 

"Stop looking at my husband's buttocks!"

"Stop looking at my momma!" 

"Well maybe she shouldn't have exposed herself like that!"

One of the men threw down his glass of champagne then threw a punch at another. The women in the room immediately left, except for one lady who started attacking Mr. Chatenay with her purse. Grace and Arthur stood off to the side, greatly amused as Mr Chatenay ran out of the room. 

"I'm coming after you, Frenchy!" one man yelled going after him. Arthur stopped the man who then decided to challenge him. 

"Arthur, no," Grace pulled on his arm, but the other man threw a punch at him. Arthur blocked it and Grace ran out of the room, leaving Arthur to the fight. All the men were fighting now, with Arthur knocking them out one by one. 

When he had finished, he left the room to look for Grace. 

"Is it safe to come out now?" he heard Mr. Chatenay say from the hallway. "Come on, I know a place I can stay for a few days."

"Hold on, I have to find someone first," said Arthur, turning back. 

"Oh, everyone's left," Mr Chatenay said dismissively, heading downstairs. Arthur just shrugged and followed him out. He looked for Grace outside, but couldn't see her. He escorted Mr Chatenay to a house down an alley and bid him farewell 

Arthur rushed back to the street, hoping to see Grace. He went back to the gallery, thinking she might be in the back garden. When he couldn't find her there, he went back upstairs. He found her sitting under the photograph of them kissing. 

"Can't even go to an art gallery without getting into a fight," she said, looking down at the floor. 

"I didn't start it!" Arthur said. 

"But you certainly finished it!" she said angrily. 

"Don't know why you're upset."

"It doesn't matter," she stood up and swiftly walked past him. He tried to grab her hand, but she slapped his hand away. He watched her leave then sat down in the chair she had been sitting in. 

A few moments later he heard footsteps approaching. He looked up eagerly but it wasn't Grace. It was Albert Mason, carrying his tote bag. 

"Ah, Mr. Morgan!" he greeted him. "I hoped we would meet again."

"Yeah, I see you got your pictures up here," Arthur replied. 

"With gratitude to you, sir," Albert said. "And I hope you don't mind, but I did catch you and your lady a few weeks ago." He pointed at the photo of Arthur and Grace. 

"I thought you only did wildlife shots," Arthur stood up. 

"I was experimenting with night shots," Albert explained. "There's not much light out there in the wilderness, but I thought I'd try out some cityscapes. Far less things trying to eat me." He opened his bag and rummaged around in it. "I think it turned out quite well, don't you?" He handed Arthur a print of him and Grace. 

"Yes, it did," Arthur said, looking down at the picture. 

"Well, at least someone is in here looking at my work," Albert looked around the empty room. 

"It was full, but there was a, uh, incident," Arthur pointed into the other room where the men he had knocked unconscious were starting to wake up. 

"Oh dear, well, these will be here for a while yet, perhaps someone will find some sort of value in them. Take care, Mr. Morgan." 

Arthur said goodbye and looked down at the picture again. He thought of that evening often. He wondered what would have happened if Albert Mason didn't take that picture. Not that he wasn't now thankful for the picture as a physical reminder of it. 

Where was Grace now? He wandered the streets, looking for her. 

"Arthur!" 

He turned and saw not Grace, but Mary hurrying towards him. He smiled, glad that the picture of him and Grace was now safely in his satchel. 

"Oh, I am glad to see you," Mary said when she reached him. 

"Why, you got more family members that need saving?"

"No, I've been hoping to see you again." 

"Oh, well, here I am." 

"Yes." They stood there awkwardly for a moment. "Will you walk with me?"

"Sure. Where are you going?"

"Let's go to the park, there's a nice one here." Mary took his arm and they walked toward the park. 

"What are you still doing here?"

"I'm... I guess I... Well, it's...." she stammered. 

"It's ol' daddy, ain't it?"

"Arthur, you know how it is," she sighed. 

"Yeah, I know." 

It was nice to see Mary again and he thought back to when he told her he'd run away with her when he had the money. He couldn't do that, not anymore. But how could he tell her?

When they reached the park, they walked along the path around the pond. Partway around, Arthur spotted Grace sitting at a bench and feeding the ducks. 

"Excuse me a moment," Arthur pulled away from Mary, "I just need to talk to someone." Mary watched him, confused, as he approached Grace. Grace noticed him, stood up and walked towards him. But then she passed him completely and went straight for Mary. 

"Hi, you don't know me but I'm a friend of Arthur's," she said, "Just a friend," she added at the look of disappointment on Mary's face. "Listen, I want you and Arthur to get out. Take this," Grace reached into her satchel and took out a large pouch, "and leave." She turned to Arthur. "When I know you two are gone, I'll give money to the rest of them so they can leave too."

"Grace--" 

"Be happy, Arthur. And you too, Mary. Goodbye." Grace walked away. 

"Oh my-- Arthur!" Mary opened the pouch, "There's... there's thousands of dollars in here!" She looked up at him happily. "We could-- Oh." Her face fell. "You're not going to run away with me, are you?"

"I'm sorry, Mary," Arthur said sadly. 

Mary looked away to hide her tears. "Just a friend?"

"She's.. well.. she's something else," he wasn't sure how to describe Grace. 

"Well, she must be if that's how you feel about her," Mary looked down at the money, then held it out to him. 

"No, you keep it," Arthur pushed it back, "You take it. Take your brother, go find something or someone worth living for."

"Arthur, I--" she stopped, "I never stopped thinking of you."

"Me too," he said quietly. 

"Walk me back?" 

Arthur nodded and offered his arm to her, escorting her back to the hotel. They were both silent until they reached the door. She turned to him. 

"I miss you," she said, "I hope she's worth it."

Arthur didn't say anything. Mary quickly kissed him on the cheek and hurried into the hotel. Arthur didn't feel the same rush as when Mary used to kiss him years ago. But now he knew for sure that it was in the past. 


	24. The Cabin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grace is angry with Arthur and he tries to reconcile with her.

Arthur agreed to meet Dutch and Lenny in town to rob the trolley station. He still had his doubts about it, but he trusted that Dutch had looked into it. After promises of nearly being home free, Dutch led them into the station, shouting for everyone to hand over their valuables. Arthur robbed two women and a man sitting on the middle bench, but one woman who was still reading seemed to not be paying attention. 

"Hey you! Hand over everything you've---" Arthur stopped when he saw who it was. Grace looked up at him, disappointed. She held out a roll of bills. Arthur hesitated. 

"What are you doing? Take it!" Dutch yelled at him, not seeming to recognise Grace. Arthur reluctantly took the money and Grace went back to reading her book. His chest tightened with guilt, but he had no more time to think about it because Lenny shouted that he had the door open to the safe. Arthur emptied the safe, finding only a scant amount of money in it. 

"We've been set up!" he said as lawmen started surrounded the station. 

  
_Seems those of us who thought Angelo Bronte was a lizard in a suit was right and them as thought he was a gentleman thief eager to help us on our merry way was wrong. Bastard sent us into a trap in town. Told us to rob a trolley station - no money but the entire police force was waiting for us. Dutch nearly died. Lenny fought real hard - the kid is good in a fight - and saved us._

  
"I'm taking Dutch back to camp, we'll see you later." Lenny drove off with Dutch who was still clutching his head. 

Arthur took out the roll of cash he had taken from Grace. He needed to give it back to her. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. As usual, he didn't have long to wait. 

"I told you it would be a set up," she shouted, riding up on Tuula. 

"Here," he handed her the cash but she didn't take it. 

"That's yours now," she said coolly. 

"No, I don't want it," he said, still holding it out. 

"Don't be stupid, just keep it," she said. "I don't need it. You do." 

"But--"

"Just... use it to get your family to safety. Then live your life happy, however you want to. Goodbye, Arthur." She galloped away. 

Arthur was left standing there, wanting to go after her but he didn't have his horse with him. He pocketed the money again and started the long walk back to Shady Belle. When he arrived, he managed to get out of talking to anyone. He wasn't in the mood for conversation. He went up to his room, shut the door, and took out Grace's money.

After counting it, he was astonished. Between that and the money she had left in his trunk - which was still there, he checked - he had enough money to get everyone to wherever they wanted to go in the world and have enough left over to do it again. 

But he couldn't leave. Not yet. Not until he had reconciled with Grace. He hated that she was angry with him. She had good reason, of course, but he couldn't leave her like that. He had to find her. Again. 

  
He rode out the following day, knowing he had a few days while Dutch recovered from his head injury sustained in their escape from the Saint Denis law. He headed up to Cumberland Forest to try to find her cabin. He was going to find her, no matter how long it took. 

Turns out it took nearly a day and a half. He caught a glimpse of Tuula through the trees up a hill and he rode up towards her. A cabin sat in a clearing, small and modest, with a shelter built against one side for Tuula. The appaloosa lifted her head and nickered quietly as Arthur approached and dismounted before going around to the other side. 

Grace was chopping wood with her back towards Arthur. He stood there for a moment, watching her. When she set her axe down to pick up the wood, Arthur cleared his throat causing her to jump. She whirled around, saw who it was, then turned back without saying a word. 

"Grace, look, I'm sorry," he said.

"I'm sure," she said coolly, picking up some of the wood and piling it next to the cabin. 

"Can I help?"

"No."

"Please, let me help." He picked up the rest of the wood and turned to see her go into the cabin, slamming the door. He piled it with the rest then knocked on her door. 

"Go away, I don't want to talk to you," she yelled. 

"C'mon, don't be like this," he moved to the window where she closed the curtains, "Grace, please talk to me." He could hear her moving about inside, but she didn't say anything. "Fine, I'll just sit here and wait until you're ready to talk." 

Arthur sat on a chair just outside the door. He waited. And waited. And waited. He untacked his horse to make him more comfortable. Dusk was starting to fall and still she hadn't said a word or come outside. Dark clouds were accumulating, indicating a storm was coming. She wouldn't let him stay outside in a storm. She was far too nice to do that. It just started to rain when the door opened. 

"Here," she handed him a bowl of stew, "You can sleep with the horses." She went back in and slammed the door. 

"Goddamn woman!" Arthur cursed. He took the stew around the side of the cabin to the shelter. Tuula and Smokey were already inside. He sat in the corner among some hay bales and ate the stew. 

The storm outside was becoming more intense. The thunder cracked so loudly the horses were getting agitated. The lightning was so frequent it made the sky look like daylight. The wind was blowing rain, leaves and debris all over the place, but luckily not much was blowing inside. 

When he awoke, the sun was just rising. Smokey and Tuula were grazing on some hay outside. He stood up, stretched, and went outside. Grace was pumping water into a bucket. 

"You going to talk to me now?" he asked, approaching her. 

"No." She picked up the bucket and headed back to the cabin. 

"Why not?"

"I don't want to."

"Well I want to talk to you."

"Then talk. Doesn't mean I'll listen."

"Goddammit, will you stop being like this?"

"No." She stormed back into the cabin, slamming the door. Arthur sighed and sat down in the chair outside the door. 

"I ain't leaving until we talk!" he yelled. 

"Go to hell!"

"Oh, I'm sure I will!"

Arthur stayed outside all morning, only getting up to stretch his legs. He could hear Grace moving about in the cabin but she didn't open the door again. He knew he could easily just kick open the door, but he wasn't about to do that. Even if she was being unreasonable.

Noon came and went. Arthur ate some dried meat from his satchel. The sun started to set again and the cabin door finally opened. 

"Why are you still here?" Grace asked angrily. 

"I told you, I ain't leaving until we get this sorted out," he stood up. 

"There's nothing to sort out," she went to shut the door but he blocked it with his hand. 

"No, I'm done with this, we are going to talk whether you like it or not," Arthur said. 

"Goddammit," Grace cursed. "Fine. Fine!" She went back inside, leaving the door open for Arthur to follow. He entered and took in the layout. A fireplace and stove was to the left with a kitchen table in front of him, a desk was to the right of the door, and a bed covered by a quilt was in the far right corner. At the foot of the bed was her easel and a number of painting canvases. There were a few bookshelves, stuffed with books and journals. 

Grace sat down at the desk, looking down at her journal in that writing Arthur couldn't read. 

"Grace, I'm sorry about what happened," he said, "It... it wasn't supposed to go down like that."

"Well what did you think was going to happen?" she asked angrily, "None of that would've happened if you had just taken my money and left!"

"But... it's yours," Arthur said stupidly. 

"Oh for god's sake," she covered her face with her hands, "If we had never met, you would've gladly robbed me of that money and you'd all be gone now."

"Well--"

"I don't know what I expected. I don't even know why you're still here."

"I want to be here," he said. 

"But why? After I've been angry with you I expected you to leave."

"I ain't going anywhere until we sort things out."

"For god's sake," she said to herself. "Listen, I just want you to get out while you still can. Get yourself and your family somewhere safe, somewhere you can all be happy and not have to worry about having enough money."

"I don't think that'll work," Arthur said, "We've lived the way we have for far too long."

"I know, but if you stay here and keep doing what you're doing, more people will die," Grace looked at him. 

"You don't know that for sure." 

"After that nonsense in Saint Denis, I'm not sure if I can mislead the Pinkertons anymore."

Arthur sighed. "Well, we just need the money--"

"Which I have and which I have already offered you!" she said. "I don't know why you just won't take it."

"Because I don't want to leave you!" 

"What about Mary? Why didn't you leave with her?"

Arthur sighed. "I told her to take the money herself, and to go. Like I said, what we had, it's done now."

"You should've gone with her."

"Why are you so concerned with me going with Mary?"

"Because I love you and I want you to be happy!" Grace's eyes widened at her admission and she started stammering. "I mean, um, I just want you to be happy and I know you'll be happy with her."

"Well, I'm happy with you," Arthur said quietly. 

She shook her head. "I shouldn't have let myself get too close," she said to herself. 

"Grace, would you be happy with me?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Why won't you let yourself be happy?"

"Because we can't--"

"We can't be together, yes, I know, but why not?"

"We just can't, okay?"

"Why won't you tell me?" he demanded. 

"Because it's complicated."

"Try me." 

"Maybe... maybe you'll find out, soon enough," she said quietly, looking down at her journal. 

"Grace," he moved forward towards her and she stood and backed away. 

"Don't, just... don't."

Arthur nodded and sat down at the table. He didn't know what to do. He watched her sit back down at her desk and she started writing.

"I thought you were left-handed," he said, frowning slightly. 

"I'm ambidextrous," she said without looking up, "I can write with both hands." 

"Huh. You learn that in your world travels?"

"No. I was forced to learn." 

Arthur frowned. "How can you be forced to learn to write with either hand?"

"I'm naturally left-handed, but that's not considered socially appropriate, so I was forced to use my right hand."

"How?"

"First they tied my left hand behind my back. And when that didn't work, they broke my fingers."

"Jesus!" Arthur was horrified, "Who the hell did that to you?"

"My parents," Grace said quietly, "Or rather, my parents had the servants do it." She held up her left hand and he noticed that her fore and middle fingers were slightly crooked. "After all these years, it still gets stiff so I have to use my right hand." 

Arthur felt angry. "How could anyone do that to their kid?"

Grace shrugged. "It was the norm back then."

"Christ. What kind of childhood did you have?"

She sighed. "One of wealth and privilege and bullshit."

"Jesus." 

"Yeah. But, that was a long time ago. It's getting late. You can take the bed, I'm sure it's far more comfortable than the horse's shelter."

"What about you?"

"I'm staying up tonight."

"Why?"

"It's private." 

"Oh." Arthur couldn't help but be curious about what she could be doing in the middle of the night? 

  
Arthur woke to the sound of something being dragged outside. He got up and peeked out the window to see Grace wearing a nightgown and dragging a large tin bath to the middle of the clearing. She then went over to the water pump and started filling a bucket of water. When it was full, she dumped it in the bath. 

When the bath was full to her satisfaction, she pulled off her nightgown revealing that she had been completely naked underneath and stepped in. Arthur stepped back from the window, feeling slightly guilty for watching. He waited before he looked again in time to see her slip below the rim of the bath, presumably to wet her hair. But she didn't come back up right away. 

After what felt like an absurdly long time, he panicked and ran outside. She was completely submerged in the water, her eyes closed. He grabbed her and pulled her up. She gasped in surprise, coughing. 

"What the hell?" she yelled. 

"I thought you was drowning!" he said. 

"I was fine," she replied. 

"Oh, well, uh, sorry," he stammered. "I'll... I'll go back in."

"You may as well stay."

"Why?"

"You'll see in a little bit," she said, "And you won't have to go back to peeking through the window."

"Oh. Sorry." Arthur blushed and went to sit on the chair outside of the cabin. She washed up then turned to Arthur before getting out. 

"Are you going to be fine with me being naked for a bit longer, or do you want me to put my nightgown on?" she asked. 

"Um, well," he was unprepared for that question. 

"I'll put my nightgown back on," she said with a smile. She stood up as Arthur averted his gaze. When he looked again, she had her nightgown back on and was now sitting on a blanket on the ground, braiding her hair. She looked over at him, smiled again, and patted the ground next to her. Arthur sat on the blanket next to her. 

"So why do you bathe out in the open, in the middle of the night, with cold water?" he asked. 

"Because I like it," she replied. "Bathing in cold water is good for you, and doing it in the middle of the night is peaceful. Tuula's usually on guard." she added, pointing over to her horse who was grazing not too far away. 

"Oh. And then you just stay naked?"

"While I dry off, yes. The cool air feels nice. I haven't dumped out the bath yet, if you want to wash up too," she said. "I can heat it up if you want."

"Sounds good," he said, now realizing he probably smelled awful. Grace stood up and went inside, soon returning with a kettle of hot water which had been heated up on the stove. She poured it in the bath, swishing it around to even out the temperature. 

"There you go," she said. "I'll be over here. I won't look." She lay back on the blanket as Arthur went over to the bath. 

He undressed and stepped into the warm water. He lay back and closed his eyes. She was right, it was peaceful. He wasn't so sure about bathing in cold water, though. At least it was warm enough. He opened his eyes and looked over at Grace. She was still lying down with one arm under her head and the other across her stomach, looking up at the sky. He washed up then got dressed again, wishing he had some clean clothes to wear. 

"So you're just looking up at the sky?" he sat down next to her. 

"Yep."

"Looking at what?" he looked up. 

"The stars, for now."

"What do you mean, 'for now'?"

"You'll see," she said. "It'll be better if you lay down too. Your neck won't get so stiff."

Arthur lay down next to her. They were silent for a few minutes. 

"Y'know, Pearson told us that if we ever got lost, all we had to do was follow one of them stars," Arthur said. 

"He was probably talking about Polaris," she said. 

"So he was telling the truth?"

"In a way. Polaris is usually the brightest star in the sky and it's the most constant," she took his hand in hers, pointing it towards the sky. "See? That's it there. The orientation of the stars and constellations change, depending on the time of day and year, but Polaris remains exactly where it is." 

"Huh." He lowered his hand, still hanging onto hers. "You ever meet that blind beggar man?"

"A few times, yes. Why?"

"This reminds me of something he said to me and I don't know what to make of it. 'Your whole life you've been following the wrong star'." 

"Could mean a lot of things, I suppose."

"Has he said anything to you?"

"'The end you seek is coming, but it is not the end you wish it to be.'" 

"'The end'?" 

"Probably just a bunch of nonsense," she shrugged.

He then saw something streak across the sky. "Did ya see that?"

"Just wait." 

Arthur watched as another light streaked across the sky. Then another. More and more filled the sky. He couldn't recall if he'd ever seen anything like it. He usually didn't spend much time looking up at the sky at night. Grace squeezed his hand, making him aware that he was still holding hers. He looked over at her. She was still watching the sky in amazement. He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. 

"Arthur?" 

"Yeah?"

"Did you mean what you said earlier?" she turned her head to him, "That you're happy when you're with me?"

"Yes. Did you mean it earlier? What you said?"

She turned away and sat up, covering her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook as she started to cry. 

"Grace?" He sat up and placed his hand on her back. "It's okay." He moved closer to put his arm around her. She didn't say anything but turned to him, tears running down her face, and kissed him. "Is that a yes?" 

Grace smiled and nodded. They kissed again, embracing each other tightly, forgetting all about the meteor shower above them. 

  
When Arthur woke the next morning, Grace was curled up next to him still asleep. For the first time in a very long time, perhaps even ever, he felt happy. Even if it was just for that moment, everything felt exactly as it should be. He touched her cheek gently, as if to make sure she was actually there, and smiled as she wrinkled her nose to get rid of whatever was touching her. 

He wondered how he got so lucky. What did he ever do to have her in his life? He didn't deserve her, but he needed her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!


	25. The Cabin II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur finds out more about Grace's past.

Arthur and Grace stayed in bed for the rest of the morning. Their clothing were still somewhere outside, not that either of them were too concerned at the moment. They lay facing each other, still recovering from the night before. He loved the way her deep blue eyes seem to sparkle, even though they still had a tinge of sadness to them. 

"We should get up," he said. 

"Yeah, but I'm sore," she smirked, "I haven't done that in so long."

"Heh, me too." 

"Urgh," she groaned as she slowly sat up and stretched her arms over her head. 

"That gunshot wound healed well," he said, brushing his fingers across the scar on her back. 

"Hm?"

"When you were shot in Valentine."

"Oh, right." 

"What, you don't remember?" 

"I just forgot about it," she shrugged. 

"Where did you get this one?" he sat up and touched another scar on her shoulder. 

"Fell off a horse and stabbed myself on a branch." 

"And these?" he lightly touched a few long scars below her jaw. 

"An unfortunate incident." She turned to him. "Where did you get this one on your chin?"

"Got into a fight at a bar, guy took a swing with a broken bottle."

"Have you ever been in a bar without getting into a fight?"

"Once or twice," he joked, "What about back here?" Arthur brushed part of her hair aside at the back of her head, showing what looked to be another gunshot wound scar. "It looks more recent than the one from Valentine."

"Oh, just another unfortunate incident," she said, leaning away and brushing her hair back over the scar. 

"You seem to have a lot of those," he frowned slightly. 

"Yeah, well, it is what it is," she crawled over him and pulled out a trunk from under the bed. She opened it and took out a dress which she pulled on. "I'll go get your clothes since I assume you don't want to stay naked all day."

He shrugged with a small smile. "Only if you want to."

"Heh, well, as much as I'd like to, I have things that need doing and I'd prefer to be clothed while I do them," she smiled back at him before heading outside. 

Arthur watched her leave then fell back on the bed and closed his eyes. He did really love Grace and showed her as much the night before. And that morning. He felt happier knowing she felt the same way. But what now? He couldn't leave the gang just like that, and she's already said she wouldn't go with them to wherever they escape. But, that was before last night. 

No, even if she did escape with them, she wouldn't stay and he wouldn't keep her from leaving. But maybe once the gang was safe wherever they go, he and Grace can leave. See the world, as she's already been doing. He never imagined he might have the chance to leave the United States, let alone go all around the world. But now it's looking more possible. 

His thoughts were interrupted by his clothes being dumped on his chest. 

"Alright, time to get up, lazy bones," Grace said. 

As he dressed, she stoked the fire and checked a pot on the stove, giving its contents a stir, before tying an apron around her waist. She started taking down some jars from a nearby shelf and placing them on the table. When Arthur pulled his boots on, she ladled out some leftover stew from the pot into a dish and set it on the table for him. He sat and started eating, watching as she started mixing ingredients from the jars in a large bowl. 

"Aren't you going to eat?" he asked between bites. 

"Yeah, but I have to do this first," she said, cracking a couple of eggs into the bowl, "We got a late start today."

"What are you making?"

"Buns," she replied, "I'm making them for the church orphanage in Saint Denis."

"Oh. I thought you didn't believe in God."

Grace looked up at him. "I don't need to believe in God to help others."

"But you seemed to know that nun."

She smirked a bit and continued mixing the dough. "I don't need to believe in God to talk to people, even nuns. And Sister Calderon is the loveliest one I've met. She--" Grace paused. "She has a gift of understanding. You could tell her anything and she has this way of knowing exactly how you feel." 

"Hah, don't think that'd work for me."

"You'd be surprised." She placed a cloth over the bowl and set the bowl near the fireplace. Arthur finished eating as she dished out some stew for herself and sat down. 

"Never imagined you as the type to be so... so..." Arthur tried to think of the word. 

"Domestic?"

"Yeah."

"Heh, I know. When I was a child, I never thought I'd be doing things like this." 

"So, if your family kicked you out when you were, you know, how did you get all that money?" 

"From William."

"The feller who cancelled your engagement just because you got pregnant?" Arthur blurted, surprised. 

"I know you aren't going to believe me, but he was a good man."

"But--"

"It wasn't his decision," Grace sighed and leaned back in her chair. "My parents had arranged for me to marry him. He was a lot older than me and I thought it terribly unfair. Maybe it was because I was an awful person."

"I don't believe you."

"I really was," she smiled slightly, "I have awful memories of hitting and kicking and biting the servants."

"Biting them? Jesus."

"Like I said, I was awful. Not that the rest of my family was any better. But they arranged for me to marry William because he was still unmarried and part-owner with his brother of a very successful paper company, and both of our families thought it beneficial."

"You didn't love him?"

"Not at first, no. I threw so many tantrums. But then we met and he was nice. I tried to be rude so he'd be put off, but he was understanding about the whole situation. He thought we should try to make the most of it and at least try to get to know each other better. And the more we spent time together, the more I realised he wasn't so bad. He was good and kind and very funny. He made me want to be a better person."

"So no more biting the servants?" Arthur joked.

"Heh, nope," Grace laughed, "I think they were grateful for that. William and I spent a lot of time together and, well, I ended up expecting before we were to be married. We tried to move up the date immediately, but our families were afraid of the impending rumours. If we were wed much sooner than the planned date, and then gave birth a few months later, it could've destroyed him."

"Bit of an overreaction."

"It would've destroyed not only his reputation but also his family's. It may sound ridiculous to you, but social standing was a big deal. His business and reputation were vital. And he may have been a good person, but he also grew up in the privileged classes and couldn't just walk away from it. Even for me. So, his brother forced him to break off the engagement and tell everyone I had relations with another man, which wasn't true since the only man I had been with was William. My own family disowned me for shaming them. 

"He did give me a bit of money so I wasn't completely disadvantaged. I ended up being taken in by a friend of one of the servants. I had no idea how to take care of myself. I couldn't cook or clean or sew or even dress myself." Grace suddenly laughed and hid her face in her hands. "Good lord, what you must think of me now."

"I think you lived a ridiculous life," Arthur couldn't help but laugh too.

"I did, didn't I?" 

"So what happened?"

"I learned to take care of myself, to cook, clean..."

"Dress yourself."

"Shut up, that was the hardest thing I ever had to learn!"

"Really?"

"No, of course not. It was harder learning to cook. So many things to remember. Anyway, while Ella was happy to teach me how to take care of myself, she couldn't afford to keep doing so. Eventually I had to go find my own way.

"I ended up finding work on a farm for a while and that's what I did. Just wandered from farm to farm, helping out with what I could in exchange for a place to sleep and food to eat. I ended up in Canada and it was there I was on my way to the next farm when I went into labour."

"All alone? Jesus." 

"Yeah," she looked down at her hands. "I didn't even know I was pregnant with twins. But they came out all grey and quiet and still. I remember wanting to die there with them. I must've been near a reservation because some Indian men out hunting found me, brought me and my babies back to their village. Their tribe had a burial ceremony for them and nursed me back to health. They taught me how to fish, how to hunt, how to survive."

"So where does William come back into this?"

"After I could travel again, I went back to New York. Even though we had parted, I felt he still deserved to know what happened to the children. But when I got there, I was told he had been killed a few months earlier. Robbed outside the city. Gave them everything he had on him, and they shot him anyway," she said bitterly. "But then I found out he had left a will behind. He had it written up after we had become engaged and he never changed it."

"So he still left you something even though he broke off the engagement?"

"Everything."

"Everything?!" 

Grace nodded. "His brother was so angry. He had been trying to get his hands on William's assets, but he couldn't do it legally. And apparently he tried to just take everything anyway, but breaking the law didn't sit well with the upper class then either. William's good friend was the will's executor and one of the very few who believed that I hadn't been with someone else, so he helped me."

"Jesus. That must've ruffled some feathers."

"Oh yeah, I even got William's shares in his company. But I sold them as well as William's other assets to his brother after I said he'd never have to see me again."

"How much were the shares?"

She paused. "A fair bit. It was enough for my family to reach out and suddenly want to see me again."

"Did you go see them?"

"Yep. I went in long enough to tell them to eat shit and left. Haven't seen them since."

"Good. They sound like rotten people."

"They were. But William..." Grace sniffled, "He was the good one. He didn't deserve to be killed."

"Sorry," Arthur said quietly. 

"Yeah. Well, long time ago now." She stood and removed the empty dishes from the table. She poured the remaining stew into a smaller pot, then handed the empty pot along with the used dishes to him. "Can you wash these please? May as well put you to work around here." 

"Sure," he took the dishes out to the water pump. The horses were grazing on some hay Grace had already set out. 

As Arthur washed up the dishes, he wondered how often Grace thought of William. It seemed like she still held a torch for him, similar to how he did for Mary. Did she keep a photo of him like he did of Mary? 

It seemed unthinkable to him that parents would completely disown their daughter just because she ended up pregnant by the man she was engaged to. He shook his head. He would never understand the attraction of being part of the upper classes. Except for the money. But the rest? Ridiculous. 

He couldn't help wondering exactly how much she had gotten in that will. It would've been quite a lot, considering how much travelling she's done and how much she had already given him. How much did she have left? She was still young, but did William leave enough for her to be set for life, or would she have to find her own way later on? 

"Arthur?" He looked up and saw Grace walking towards him. "You okay? You've been out here for a while."

"Oh. Sorry," he picked up the dishes he had finished washing some time ago. 

"Something on your mind?" she took the dishes from him and they returned to the cabin. 

"Just thinking about what you told me," he replied, "Do you keep anything of William to remember him? Like a picture or something?"

"Oh, no, back then, photographs weren't-- I mean, I never got one." She placed the dishes and pot on a shelf near the stove, then went over to one of her bookshelves. She took a couple books out and flipped through them until she found what she was looking for. "I did drawings, though." She handed him one of the books which was seemed so old and worn it was nearly falling apart. On the yellowed page was a few sketches of a man with short hair and sideburns, and wearing a coat with a high collared shirt and cravat. 

"Liked the old-fashioned look, huh?" 

"Yeah, guess you could say that," she said, taking back the book and looking at the drawings before closing it and returning it to the shelf. 

"You miss him?"

"Would it bother you if I did?" 

"Nah."

"I know it seems silly to miss someone after he's been gone for so long." She paused and looked at him. "You still miss Mary, right? And Eliza and Isaac?"

"I suppose."

"Of course you do," she picked up the cloth-covered bowl from near the fireplace and set it on the table, "It doesn't bother me, you know. Actually, I'd be more bothered if you didn't miss them."

Arthur didn't say anything but watched as she sprinkled some flour on the table then dumped out the dough. She kneaded it until breaking off pieces, shaping them into buns and placing them on a tray. 

"What were their names? Your children, I mean," he asked quietly. 

Grace stopped and kept her gaze down. "Eleanor and William." She continued making buns out of the dough, but did so more forcefully. 

"Grace?" 

"It's not fair!" she suddenly screamed and slammed her hands on the table so hard, it startled Arthur. She started to cry and he quickly took her into his arms. "Why were they the ones to die?" she sobbed. 

"I don't know," he said, wishing he could be more reassuring, "I don't know." 

He held her until she had calmed down. He wiped the remaining tears with his thumbs then kissed her. She kissed him back desperately and started clawing at his shirt. He grasped her hands. 

"No, not like this," he said quietly, "Come on, why don't you lie down?" 

She didn't say anything but nodded and let Arthur lead her over to the bed. He pulled back the blankets and tucked her in as she lay down. He sat with her, holding her hand until she drifted off to sleep. 

  
It was early evening when she woke again. Arthur was sitting at the table, flipping through a book. 

"Sorry," she said, sitting up. 

"It's fine," he put the book down, "Feeling better?"

"A bit," she stayed sitting on the bed and looked down at her hands. "Well, I guess I'll try to salvage the bread dough." 

"Already done."

Grace stood and stared at him. "What, you threw it out? The dough was still fine, it's--"

"No, I made 'em for you," he gestured to her basket near the fireplace which was covered in a cloth. She stared at him again then hurried over to the basket, lifting the cloth. 

"But--"

"Ain't as much as you would've made, but the first few didn't make it," he smiled. 

"Arthur Morgan. Outlaw. Killer. Baker." Grace snorted with laughter. Arthur burst out laughing too. 

"Thought you managed to learn after what you been through, couldn't be too hard."

"I don't know if I should feel insulted or not. Well, I still have time to make more. Better to have more than needed for the orphanage. Want to help?"

"Sure."

"You can start by going out to feed the horses," she said and handed him a jar of what looked like cooked oatmeal. "Give them this. It's mash, it'll be like a treat for them."

He took the jar and headed outside to their horses. As he fed them, he felt content. He could get used to this. 


	26. In Pursuit of Science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Grace meet Marko Dragic, a strange European professor. They also meet Evelyn Miller and agree to help Rains Fall and Eagle Flies.

Grace packed up some clothes, explaining to Arthur that she was going to stay at the farm outside of Saint Denis. Arthur asked her to come back to camp and stay with him, but she declined.

"You need your space," she said as they rode out, "And I don't know about you, but I think I'd like to keep us to ourselves for now."

"Yeah, I think so too," he smiled at her. 

The ride to Saint Denis was uneventful, with the exception of a lunch break that ended with them making love in the woods. They were nearly caught when a passing rider had stopped to relieve himself only a short distance away. Grace had started giggling, only stopping when Arthur covered her mouth with his hand. 

"That was close," she said when he removed his hand. 

"Hm," he kissed her vigourously. 

"You in a rush or something?" she asked softly as he moved down her neck. 

"Or something," he mumbled against her collarbone and she tightened her hold on him. 

It was early evening when they arrived at Saint Denis. They stopped at the church orphanage first to deliver the sack of buns. 

"Well, I suppose you'll be wanting to get back," Grace said, mounting her horse.

"Hm?"

"The others? You haven't been back at camp for a while, they're probably wondering where you'd gone."

"Oh, right." 

"Meet me at the park tomorrow morning?" 

"Of course." He moved his horse closer, leaned over and kissed her. 

"Until then," she smiled before riding away. 

Arthur slowly rode through the city and back towards camp. He didn't want to be apart from her, not so soon. He had hoped she would return to camp with him, but as she said, it may be best to keep their affair to themselves for now. 

"Who goes there?" Bill called out as Arthur rode in. 

"It's me, you dumbass," Arthur yelled. 

"Well, I hope you had a good time," Bill said sarcastically. 

After dismounting his horse, Arthur crossed the foot bridge to be greeted by Jack. 

"Hi, Uncle Arthur! Is Miss Grace here too?"

"Not today."

"Oh. I wanted to tell her I finished that book she gave me!"

"You did? Well that's real good. I'll tell her when I see her next."

"Okay! I hope she comes back to visit."

"I'm sure she will." Arthur smiled to himself as Jack ran off. He was then approached by Sadie. 

"She not with you?"

"No, she's staying elsewhere."

Sadie looked at him for a few moments before her eyes widened. "Wait, are you two...?" Arthur smiled slightly. "I knew it!"

"Don't say anything," he lowered his voice, "It's... I don't want everyone to know yet."

"Of course," Sadie grinned, "Never had you as the romantic type, even though I heard about that Mary."

"Hah, I ain't."

"So what happened with Mary?"

"She didn't love me enough, or I wouldn't change."

"Well, she's a fool. But it worked out for Grace, I s'pose. I hope you bring her back, I like her." 

"I can't believe she was there when we got you away from them O'Driscolls," Arthur said, noticing that Sadie kept fingering the locket Grace had given her. 

"I'm glad she was," she replied quietly before walking away. 

Arthur went in the house and upstairs to knock on Dutch's door. 

"I told you I don't want to talk!" Dutch yelled from the other side. 

"I just got here!" Arthur said. 

"Oh! Arthur, come in."

Arthur opened the door and saw Dutch sitting up on the bed. "Expectin' someone else?"

"Yeah, Molly," Dutch shook his head, "All she wants to do is talk, talk, talk. Does she not realise I have more important things to think about?"

"Well, maybe you should talk to her, get it out of the way."

"Right, and then she'll just want to talk more."

"So how are you feeling now?" Arthur pointed to his head. 

"Oh, much better, but I still have headaches," Dutch rubbed his temple, "So I been thinking. Before we are able to rob the bank in Saint Denis, we have to get rid of Bronte."

"Get rid of him?"

"He set us up, Arthur."

"You always said vengeance was a fool's game."

"Then let us be fools."

"So what's the plan then?"

"I'm still thinking about that. Just need more time."

"We don't have much time left."

"I know, Arthur. I know." 

"What if... what if we don't have to rob the bank?" Arthur said cautiously.

Dutch frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what if we can send someone to get the Blackwater money?"

"No. We can't risk that."

"But Grace could--"

"I said no. We'll go back for the money when it's clear."

"And when will that be?" 

"I don't know," Dutch lay back down, "I need to rest more. I'll think about what we're going to do about Bronte."

Arthur nodded and left for his own room. He knew going after Bronte was just going to cause more trouble, but he had to admit he too was infuriated they had been set up. 

He sat on his bed and looked at the picture of himself and Grace. He picked it up, running his fingers over her image. Was she thinking of him at that moment as well? He replaced the picture, and was about to lay back on his bed, when he noticed his trunk was slightly askew. He was sure he had left it sitting flat against the end of his bed. 

He moved it back to where it was supposed to be and opened it. At first he didn't see anything wrong. But as he searched through the trunk, he realised that the money he had gotten from Grace was missing. But who would've taken it?

"Dammit!" he slammed the lid shut. He felt disappointed, but also strangely relieved. Now he didn't have to worry about trying to decide between the gang and Grace, at least, not yet. But all that money... He'd need to be careful about accusing anyone. If everyone found out he had been hiding that much money all this time... 

He decided not to worry too much about it. Instead, he'll wait and see what happens. If someone announces they found or stole a lot of money, he'll know who took it from his trunk. But should he speak up and say it was his and it was stolen? Dutch wouldn't take too kindly about hiding all that money from him and the gang. What if the thief admits they took it from Arthur's trunk? How would he explain having that money? If he told them he got it from Grace, would they simply accept it and escape? Or would some of the others try to get more out of her? 

Whatever happens, he'll figure it out and he'll do everything he can to protect her if he needs to. 

  
Arthur left early the next morning, unsure of when exactly he was to meet Grace. He didn't hurry, keeping his horse at a slow jog into the city. He stabled his horse and wandered over to the park. 

In the pond, there were a number of strange objects floating about. Some looked like large balls, others looked like toy boats but bigger. As he headed to the pond's edge, he could hear a man angrily shouting in a strange accent at the small dock. 

"Bastards! Total bloody bastards!" The man was pacing beside a table with a strange contraption with levers and rods on it. "Why do I waste my time? Why?"

"You okay, buddy?" Arthur asked as he neared him. 

The man jumped, startled, then frowned. "Ugh, fantastic. You Americans! Nothing but shysters, traitors, and slippery tongued ball suckers!"

"I'm inclined to agree," Arthur chuckled slightly. 

"Here, help me, please," the man opened a box next to the table and took out what looked like a large unfinished boat. He handed it to Arthur. 

"So, are you some sort of European toy maker?" 

"No, I am a fucking genius with poker up the ass," the man stuck a couple of metal rods into the boat-like object. "Toy maker," he scoffed, "Do I look like I should entertain children?" He narrowed his eyes at Arthur. 

"No." 

"I am the saviour of the mankind, buddy," he took the boat from Arthur and placed it in the water. "Yes, you meet him, Professor Marko Dragic," he introduced himself.

"So, what's this toy about?" Arthur started to poke at the contraption on the table.

"It is not a toy!" Marko slapped his hands away, "It is demonstration of my genius, of my ideas about the source of life."

"Ah, it's a toy boat!" Arthur realised. 

"It's a strange toy boat," Grace said as she walked up, wearing a plum-coloured skirt and jacket with a matching hat. 

"Ugh, yes, it is a 'toy boat' that I can power remotely using electricity and waves you cannot see," Marko said angrily. 

Arthur and Grace raised their eyebrows at each other as Marko was flipping switches on the contraption. 

"Waves I can't see," scoffed Arthur. 

"And still the investors will not come," Marko complained, "just a couple of old ladies and a moron."

"Investors?" asked Grace. 

Marko was about to reply when he noticed a man and two women approaching. "Ah, ladies! Gentleman! Hello, yes, hello. My friends, you are about to witness history! A demonstration of my infinite insight!" He pushed Arthur and Grace to the side. "All of us, we feel old, you, you are old," he pointed to one of the ladies who looked offended. "But maybe I can make you immortal!"

"For god's sake, why?" Grace blurted out. Marko glared at her. "Why on earth would you want to be immortal? To live forever?"

"Ahem!" Marko cleared his throat, ignoring Grace, "Using waves you cannot see, I will power this boat--"

"You're a goddamn fraud," another man interrupted Marko, "And those two are his stoolies," he pointed at Arthur and Grace. "I watched them conspire, you morons." 

"Oh, please," Grace sneered, "Like I would want anything to do with this nonsense." 

"I-I-I never met them until two minutes ago!" Marko said to the investors, "Isn't that right?" he asked Arthur and Grace. 

"Unfortunately," said Grace. 

"Alright, Professor, show us your magical toy boat," said one of the investors, "only let one of them control it." He gestured to Arthur and Grace. 

"I want nothing to do with this," Grace threw up her hands and went to sit on a nearby bench with her arms crossed. 

"This ain't nothing to do with me," Arthur protested. 

"Come, please, please," Marko pulled Arthur over to the contraption, "It is easy! Any moron could do it, and I am about to prove it." Before Arthur could feel insulted, Marko was showing him how to control the boat with the levers on the contraption. "Use these to steer, and this one to shoot torpedoes, okay? Now blow up the little battle ships and avoid the sea mines, they have magnets attached." 

Arthur manoeuvred that boat around, amazed that he could do so without any wires or anything. He torpedoed the battleships and narrowly missed hitting one of the sea mines. Marko continued to talk to the investors. 

"You see what he does? No wire like telegraph, no pulley system under water, only waves in the air!"

"This is remarkable," one of the investors said, impressed. 

"Yes! See what he does! Bring boat back to dock," said Marko. 

"Very impressive, but I'm not sure what, if anything, was proven here." 

Arthur steered the boat back to the dock. He glanced over at Grace sitting on the bench, who looked interested, but not entirely impressed. He smirked to himself as Marko reached down to the boat. 

"Let me just reload her!" he took out the boat and placed more mini torpedoes in it, "This is just a demonstration of my prowess, sir! The real miracles require investment." He placed the boat back in the water. "Now the dimwit will use invisible waves to destroy the little sailing boats before they get to other side of pond."

Arthur looked to see a couple of men in a rowboat place some small motorised sailboat toys in the water. "Or he'll try to, at least." He steered the boat towards them and torpedoed them easily. 

"Fool proof!" Marko cheered, "Undeniable fool proof! But you are not fools. And unlike fools, not fools and their money are difficultly parted." 

The investors clapped as Arthur brought the boat back to the dock, disappointed that it was over already. It was very fun. 

"It's incredible!" he said, very impressed by the invention. 

"No, no, no, incredible things are in my lab back at Doverhill that will astound all of you," Marko said excitedly to the investors. "Mr. Marcelle, can I count on your support?"

"Well, this is expensive," Mr. Marcelle hesitated. 

"It is immortality! Sir, it is very cheap! Perhaps, over lunch?" Marko begged. 

"I'm going to go," Arthur said, heading towards Grace. 

"Oh! Of course, thank you, and if you are ever up at Doverhill, stop by and pay me a visit," Marko said, "there I will really amaze you." 

He nodded and sat next to Grace on the bench. "So what did you think?"

"It's impressive, but I fail to see how invisible waves has anything to do with immortality," she said. 

"I guess that's why he's the professor and we're not." 

"They were right on one thing," she said quietly, "Immortality would be expensive."

"Yeah, sounds like it would cost a lot of money."

"I don't mean money. I mean, well, let's say immortality could be achieved, then what? Does that apply to everyone, or only a select few? And if it's only a select few, will they realise that they will outlive everyone? Will they have the option to die when they get tired of living? And if everyone can be immortal, what about having children? The population of the world will become too much because no one is dying."

"I never thought it that way."

"Well, you were having too much fun blowing up toy boats," she smiled. 

"Hah, it was pretty fun," he stood and held his hand out to her. She took it and they walked out of the park. "So would you invest in that?"

"No. It's an interesting concept and impressive, but I'd rather see it demonstrating more beneficial uses. Like, maybe one day we can send telegraphs wirelessly."

"You really think that's possible?"

"After everything I've seen, I'm sure it will one day. Just not today."

"The way everything's changing, it feels like there won't be any use for folk like us."

"'Folk like us'?" 

"I mean, me, Dutch, the others."

"Oh, outlaws, you mean," Grace paused. "I was going to say there wasn't any use for you at all, but I suppose there are benefits."

"Like?"

"Well, you're less likely to consider the legalities of helping out someone. Like, say someone kidnaps someone you know. You're not going to waste time going to the local sheriff. You're going to barge right in, fight, and burn the place down."

"Sounds like something we might do," Arthur laughed. 

"Oh! You! Excuse me!" a man called to them.

"Uh, do I know you?" Arthur asked. The man looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place him.

"I believe we've met, at that awful party."

"Oh, Evelyn Miller?' he realised. 

"Unfortunately so, Mr.. uh?"

"Arthur Morgan, at least sometimes," he shook Evelyn Miller's hand, "And Grace M- I mean, Bellerose, all of the time," he gestured to Grace. 

"Ah, yes, you were at that party too," Evelyn nodded politely at her then turned back to Arthur. "May I say something rude?"

"Wouldn't be the first."

"The mayor thinks you robbed him." Arthur and Grace looked at each other. "To be clear, he wasn't very upset about it."

"Okay," Arthur was unsure how to feel about it, even if he wasn't actually the one to rob the mayor. He looked over at Grace who merely looked slightly amused. 

"Do you, uh, I mean to say, can you steal things?" 

Grace smirked as Arthur frowned. "Is there a reason you're asking me to incriminate myself, Mr. Miller?"

"Well, I'm sorry," Evelyn turned to the two native men who had been standing patiently nearby, "Have you met? This is Rains Fall, a great chief, and his son, Eagle Flies."

"We saw you on the wagon train, crossing the river at Cumberland Falls, and upstairs at the party," Rains Fall said to Arthur. "And you," he turned to Grace, "You were at the party too." 

"Yes, I was," she said. 

"My people, if we are even a people anymore, we fought hard, we've made peace treaties, and those treaties were broken, and we've been moved and punished and punished and moved. And now I am told we are to be moved again."

"Clearly contravening the peace treaty signed three years ago," said Evelyn. 

"It's bad business," said Arthur. 

"It's do with oil, I know it is, but I need the proof," Evelyn said angrily. "I believe there were some prospectors who were on their land a few months ago who have filed reports with Leviticus Cornwall and the State Government claiming huge reserves of oil under their land."

"So, you want me to try and steal it?" Arthur shook his head. 

"Well, obviously they can't," Evelyn gestured to Rains Fall and Eagle Flies, "and even more obviously, I would be useless. I realise that it is a ridiculous request, but we're very desperate."

"Of course," Grace said with certainty. 

"Now, I'm no do-gooder, Mr. Miller, despite what she says. Gentlemen, I'm very sorry for your predicament, but I'm a working man, I got problems of my own."

"Arthur--"

"Don't you start with me," he frowned at her as he started to walk away. 

"In that case, tell me where these reports are," Grace said. 

"I-I'm not sure if we should have, well, uh--" Evelyn stuttered. 

"You don't want a woman doing it? I'll have you know that Mr. Morgan here stole nothing from the mayor. It was me."

"This has nothing to do with us," Arthur tried taking her arm, but she slapped him away. 

"If you won't, then I will," she stared at him hard. 

"Fine, if only to keep you out of it," Arthur sighed. 

"Pfft, like you could anyway."

"Uh, so you'll do it, Mr. Morgan?" asked Evelyn. 

"Sure."

"Thank you," said Rains Fall, "You meet my son in a couple of days near Citadel Rock just west of the oil fields. We are very grateful for your help."

"We'll do everything we can," said Grace. 

Arthur and Grace walked away in silence. He was very annoyed having been roped into something he didn't want to get involved in, but he couldn't just let Grace try to do it herself. How often was she going to do this?

"What the hell was that about?" he asked her angrily after they'd walked a couple of blocks. 

"You can't tell me you don't want to help."

"I don't!"

"Well, I do. You didn't have to step in, you know. I'm perfectly capable of handling myself."

"And what exactly are you going to do? Walk right in and simply ask for those prospectors reports?"

"Yep."

Arthur burst out laughing. "Yeah, that right there is why I should go in."

"If you go in, they'll immediately be suspicious. So you'd have to sneak in and no offense, but sneaking is not your strong point."

"So what would your plan be?"

"Go in on the pretense of surprising my dear husband, the foreman, with lunch," she said, "It's very unlikely any of them would know what the foreman's wife, if he has one, looks like. And once I'm in, the foreman will obviously recognise I am not his wife and that's when I'll start crying about how my husband lied about where he was working, and if there's one thing that makes a man leave a room, it's a strange woman bawling her eyes out about her cheating husband." 

"Huh, I suppose that could work," he said, "But what if he doesn't leave the room?"

"I'll think of something."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"I'll be fine." 

"Until you get shot. Or nearly drowned. Or--"

"Yeah, yeah, point taken. But I'm still here, still alive."

"You ever think one day your luck will run out?"

"Oh, probably, but it hasn't happened yet," she sighed. "Let's go walk behind all those fancy mansions near the mayor's house."

"Why there?"

"It's quiet, mostly private," she smiled up at him. 

"Sure," he smiled back. 


	27. The Value of Kindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Grace pay a visit to Algernon Wasp before starting out towards the Heartlands.

"Now when you said it was quiet and private back here, I thought you had something else in mind," said Arthur as he and Grace walked arm in arm along a path behind the mansions. 

"Arthur Morgan, what kind of woman do you think I am?" she gasped dramatically then started laughing. "Well, I think I'd prefer a little more privacy than this," she said quietly, nodding to other pedestrians walking along the path as well. 

"Yeah, me too," he laughed too, then suddenly stopped. "Hold on a moment." He walked off the path, bent down and picked a couple of flowers from the ground. He put one in his satchel and handed the other to Grace. 

"Thank you," she said, "What's the other one for?"

"Oh, I been helping a fancy hat maker get orchids and bird feathers," he replied, holding his arm out for her again. 

"And then you're going to rob him?" she joked, taking his arm. 

"Heh, nah, he seems a decent sort. Like you said, I won't rob the good ones," he paused, "His shop is just up here, in that garden. I'll just deliver what I have for him."

"Of course. How did you meet him?"

"He was at the party, choking on a nut."

"Huh."

"Oh, and he knows me as Tacitus Kilgore," he said, "So that means you will be Mrs. Tacitus Kilgore."

"Grace Kilgore," she wrinkled her nose, "I don't think I like that very much."

"Hah, at least it's only for a little while."

"Thank goodness." 

They walked in silence to the shop and Arthur opened the door for her. 

"Ah! Mr. Kilgore! And this must be the delightful Mrs. Kilgore!" a flamboyant man greeted them. 

"Er, yes, this is Algernon Wasp," he said to Grace. 

"Charmed! Enchante! Delighted!" Algernon greeted her. 

"Likewise, Mr. Wasp," she replied politely. 

"I have those orchids and plumes," Arthur took out them out of his satchel. 

"Excellent! And here is your money," Algernon opened the register and handed him a wad of bills. "Mrs. Kilgore, you are the luckiest to have a husband with such an artistic eye."

"I sure am," she smiled over at Arthur. 

Algernon then bent behind the counter and placed an extravagant top hat on the counter. It was white and covered in feathers and flowers. 

"What do you think of this?" he asked. 

"Well, that sure is something," said Grace. 

"Isn't it just?" Algernon beamed.

"Uh... It's... very exotic," Arthur was unsure of what to say. 

"I made it for you!" Algernon said proudly. Grace snorted and tried to hide it behind a cough. 

"Oh, um, it's not..." Arthur stammered, "I mean, it would be wasted on me."

"Try it on!" Algernon picked up the hat and handed it to Arthur. 

"It's not really for a man of my... coarseness." 

"Oh, please," said Algernon. 

"Yes, darling, please try it on," Grace giggled. Arthur reluctantly obliged, feeling incredibly ridiculous. Grace was trying to hide her laughter while Algernon looked it over. 

"Hm, maybe you're right, it is too much!" Algernon whipped the hat off Arthur's head. "I am ashamed."

"Aw, don't be, it's wonderful!" said Grace. "It's just not... Tacitus." 

"Of course! I shall try again," Algernon said happily. "Would you be interested in some new millinery, Mrs. Kilgore?"

"Oh, I don't wear hats," Grace said quickly. 

"But you are wearing one now," said Algernon, pointing to her plum-coloured top hat. 

"Except this one," she said. 

"I have just the thing!" He reached up and took down a very large drop-brimmed hat with an enormous feather sticking off it. "Now this, this is you."

"Oh yes, it is very me," said Grace, looking over at Arthur who was watching gleefully. She removed her own hat and put the new one on. The brim dropped down over her eyes. "Perfect."

"Ah, maybe not," Algernon removed the hat quickly. Arthur was stifling his laughter. "Perhaps you would prefer a corset?"

"Oh, that's very kind of you, but I'm afraid I will need to decline," Grace said, pinning her own hat back on, "I have mine specially made from France."

"Ah, France! They do make the most luxurious corsets, but perhaps one day you will try one of mine."

"I will consider it."

"Well, don't let me keep you from your busy day! Farewell!" 

Arthur and Grace barely made it out of the garden before they burst out laughing. 

"Oh my god, that _hat_ ," she cried, "I wish I could have taken a picture!"

"What about the one for you?" Arthur was bent over, trying to catch his breath, "How could you even see?"

"I couldn't!" she wiped the tears from her eyes, "Oh, goodness, sorry, he really is quite nice. Just... a bit much." 

"Yeah, so you really get your corsets made in France?"

"Pfft, no. There's a tailor in Blackwater who makes decent ones so I have a few from him. I prefer my corsets without all the trimmings, thank you."

"Nothing wrong with that."

"Heh, like you would even notice," she said. 

"I might." 

"Promise?" she asked coyly, moving closer to him. 

"Grace M- er, Bellerose, what kind of man do you think I am?" he joked.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" 

"Start pronouncing my surname with an 'M'."

"Oh, uh, I didn't realise I was doing it." Arthur did realise, but he didn't mean anything by it. So what if Grace Morgan sounded better to say than Grace Bellerose?

"Just an observation," she shrugged, then started giggling. 

"What's so funny?"

"Just thinking how 'Arthur Bellerose' sounds _ridiculous_ ," she cackled. 

"Hah, it does," he smirked. 

"It's a silly name fit for that silly hat!" she fell against him, laughing. He laughed quietly, holding her. She stopped and looked up at him. "What?"

"I like hearing you laugh," he leaned down and kissed her, "And I like doing this."

"Me too," she whispered then kissed him again. 

A man cleared his throat nearby, startling them. "Signora?"

Grace and Arthur looked to see a well-dressed man frowning at Grace. 

"Um, can I help you?" asked Grace. 

"You.. you're dead!" the man accused in an accent and pointed at her, his eyes widening. 

"Clearly not," she said, then tugged on Arthur's sleeve, "Let's go."

"You were shot in the head! Thrown in the swamps!"

"Why don't you leave her alone, buddy?" Arthur threatened him. 

The man started speaking Italian at her and Grace frowned. "I don't know what you're saying." She turned and walked away. The man started yelling after her until Arthur grabbed him by the throat. 

"I said leave her alone!" 

The man nodded, struggling to breathe before Arthur let him go. He gasped for air and rushed away as Arthur ran after Grace. 

"What was that about?" he asked her. 

"Oh, probably some stupid Italian thing," she brushed it off, but she looked upset. 

"Grace," he grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him, "What's going on?"

"It's nothing," she tried to break away from him, "Let go!"

"Why did he say you were shot and thrown in the swamps?"

"Obviously he mistook me for someone else."

"Did something happen at the Bronte place?" he demanded, still clutching her shoulders. "Grace!"

"For god's sake, Arthur, let go of me!" she struggled to get away, hitting at his arms. 

"What aren't you telling me?"

She stopped struggling, looked up at him, and sighed. "There are some things you're better off not knowing."

"What the hell does that mean?" 

"'Ignorance is bliss'," she said quietly, "Let's just leave it at that. I have to go."

Arthur released her and Grace hurried away. He stayed where he was for a moment, then followed. 

"Grace!" he yelled as she started to run. He ran after her. She tripped and fell to her hands and knees. He stopped and knelt beside her, taking her in his arms and holding her tight. "It's okay, darlin', it's okay." He carefully removed her hat as she cried into his shoulder. "Just... tell me how to fix it."

"You can't," she said, her voice muffled, "You can't fix this." 

Arthur didn't say anything but held her and gently stroked her hair, which was becoming unpinned after he removed her hat. He kissed the side of her head. She pulled away slightly and kissed him full on the mouth. She tasted salty, her tears still streaming down her face. 

"I don't know what to do," he said, cupping her face gently and leaning his forehead against hers. 

"You don't have to do anything," she said quietly.

"I worry about you."

"Arthur, you don't need to worry about me," she pulled back and looked him in the eyes, "I'll be fine. I know it's hard to understand, but I promise. I'll be okay." She stroked his stubbled cheek gently with her thumb. 

He took her hand and kissed it. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

She smiled slightly. "I know it doesn't seem that way, but this is one promise I can keep. I have no choice."

Arthur kissed her again. "Come on, let's get out of here." He stood and helped her up. She clung to his arm as they walked towards the farm where Grace was staying. When they arrived at the farmhouse, she turned to him. 

"You can't come in," she said with a small smile. 

"Oh."

"But I'll get my things," she kissed him on the cheek and went inside. Arthur smiled to himself and waited. He wandered over to the cow pasture and leaned against the fence. 

What did she mean that she has no choice but to keep her promise about being okay? It seemed like a strange thing to say. No one could reasonably make and keep that promise. He frowned, but was interrupted by a commotion from behind the barn. 

"Get away!"

"Stop her!"

"OH GOD!"

Arthur ran to see what was happening. Tuula was charging at some of the farmhands, stopping just short of trampling them, her ears pinned flat on her head. The farmhands were backed against the barn. One of them had a pitchfork and kept threatening the horse with it. 

"Hey! Easy, girl," Arthur approached Tuula slowly, but she charged him too. He backed away quickly, tripping on a rock and falling over. 

"Just shoot her!" one of the farmhands cried. 

"No! Don't!" Arthur stood and tried approaching Tuula again. 

This time, the appaloosa turned and galloped into the nearby bushes. She whinnied shrilly and roared, then there was the telltale sound of a panther growling. Tuula stomped about in the bushes, dipped her head down, grabbed the panther by the neck and threw it out of the bushes. Arthur and the farmhands jumped back in surprise. 

The panther growled again as it prepared to pounce, but Tuula charged it, trampling then kicking it high into the air. 

"Jesus!" Arthur yelled. 

"Damn, that's the big cat what's been attacking our cattle!" one of the farmhands said. 

"What's happ- oh," Grace came around the corner, having changed into riding pants and a blue shirt, and saw Tuula sniffing at the dead panther. 

"Did you know she could do that?" Arthur asked her. 

"Oh yeah, that's not the first big cat she's killed," she shrugged. 

"Thought she was going to kill _us_ ," one of the farmhands said, leaning on his pitchfork, "Ah, shit, looks like she's hurt." He pointed to the blood dripping to the ground off Tuula's hind leg. 

Arthur and Grace rushed around to see large scratches on the other side of Tuula's rump that ran down to her hock. One of the farmhands quickly brought Grace a cloth to wipe up the blood, while another dragged the dead panther away. 

"I'll get Mr. Coyle," the farmhand said, running to the horse barn. Arthur took a cloth from another farmhand and helped wipe blood away. Tuula was surprisingly calm. An older man ran up a few minutes later. 

"Let's see what we got here," he said, approaching the horse. Tuula threw her head up, agitated, until Grace pet her reassuringly. 

"It's okay," she said quietly, "You know him. Let him have a look."

Mr. Coyle went around to look at the damage. "Hmm, well, luckily these aren't too deep, but I'd like to keep her around until they're healed."

"You sure about that?" asked one of the farmhands. 

"What do you suggest?" Mr. Coyle asked Grace. 

"Well, unfortunately I can't stick around, but so long as you don't keep her stabled," she said, "It's going to be difficult to try to keep her in one spot for too long."

"Yes, I know," Mr. Coyle turned back to Tuula and pet her, "But we'll do our best. You have always treated us well, Miss Bellerose."

"And pay well too," she smiled. 

"Exactly, so leave Tuula with me and we'll get her back to her usual ornery self in no time."

Grace nodded and turned Tuula towards Mr. Coyle. "Now you listen here. He's going to look after you for a while. Please don't thank him by destroying the place." As if she understood, Tuula nickered and reached her nose towards Mr. Coyle. 

"Oh, she knows I've got this," Mr. Coyle reached into his jacket, pulled out a cookie, and gave it to Tuula. 

"Well that's a good way to win her over," Grace laughed, "Alright, old girl, I'll see you later." She pet Tuula and kissed her on the nose before Mr. Coyle led her away. 

"Guess there are some people she likes, huh?" Arthur asked Grace. 

"Mr. Coyle's a wonder with horses," she said, "Reminds me of you."

"Me?"

"Mmhm," she nodded, "You're very good with horses. Like you understand them on a philosophical level."

"Heh, I guess so," he followed her back to the farmhouse where she had left her saddlebags. He picked them up. "My horse is in the stable in the city." 

"Oh, I was just going to borrow another horse."

"I don't mind, and neither will ol' Smokey."

"Ha, any excuse to get closer to me, eh?" she teased him. 

"I don't need no excuse," he pulled her closer to kiss her quickly, "So where were we going to go?"

"I thought we'd start heading out to the Heartlands, maybe up to Valentine," she said as they started to walk back to the city, "And then go meet Eagle Flies at Citadel Rock."

"Oh yeah, but I don't think you should go in."

"Why not? You don't think I can handle it?"

"Well--"

"Let me try." 

Arthur sighed. "I'd rather not, but you're real stubborn. We'll see what Eagle Flies has to say when we get there."

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the stable. Grace waited outside while Arthur saddled up his horse. When he came out, she was leaning against the stable smoking a cigarette. 

"Sorry, about earlier," she said, looking down at the ground. 

"Sorry for what?"

"Not telling you certain things," she looked up at him, offering the rest of her cigarette.

"Wish you'd tell me," he took it and smoked the rest. 

Grace sighed. "One day." 

Arthur tossed the cigarette butt, then lifted her onto the back of his horse before mounting up himself. She held him around the waist as they trotted out of the city. Neither spoke, but he wondered what Grace was hiding. He wracked his brain, trying to figure it out but he couldn't think of a single thing. 

Wait. 

"Do you have a twin?" he asked her. 

"Pardon?"

"Do you have a twin sister? That looks exactly like you?"

"What? No," Grace said confused. 

"Oh. I thought maybe it was your twin that man saw get shot and dumped in the swamps, and it upset you."

"No, I don't have a twin or any other living sisters," she smirked, "But good guess, I suppose."

"I just don't understand why you won't tell me."

"It's hard to explain," she sighed, "I don't even understand myself."

"So long as you're okay."

"I am." she squeezed him around the waist. He clasped her hand and urged his horse into a lope. They rode in silence as dusk started to fall. They passed Rhodes and headed down the path to Clemens Point. 

"We'll camp here for the night," he said, trotting down the path. 

"You not afraid of Pinkertons or anyone showing up?" she asked. 

"Nah, they probably know we're gone by now," he slowed his horse to a halt. 

"Probably." Grace slid off and had a look around the empty clearing. "I haven't spoken to them in a little while. Not sure what I'm going to tell them."

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Arthur dismounted and started removing their saddlebags. 

"So where did you sleep here?" 

"I thought you spied on us enough to know where we all were," he smirked. 

"No, I've seen your camp from the island over there, but I never watched long enough to see where exactly you slept. That would be weird."

"Oh. I was over here." He walked over to the empty spot his bed and wagon had been. 

"It is a nice spot here," she followed him. "Shame you all got into so much trouble you had to leave."

"Heh, yeah." Arthur returned to his horse and unpacked his tent to set it up. Grace started gathering branches and twigs to start a fire. After cooking and eating some rabbit, they relaxed by the fire. She leaned back against him as he put his arms around her. 

She sighed contently. "This is nice."

"Yeah."

"Long day." 

"Yep." He leaned his head against hers and closed his eyes. How did he even get to this point? To be sitting here with the woman he loves, and who, for some reason, loves him back. It baffled him. After everything he's done, it shouldn't be like this. He pulled her closer, holding her tighter. 

"Arthur? You okay?"

He didn't respond. He didn't even want to open his eyes again, afraid that this was all just an elaborate dream and she would disappear. He kissed the side of her head before moving to just in front of her ear. She hummed in approval, turning her head to him. He kissed her voraciously as he clumsily tried to unbutton her shirt. 

"Arthur, wait!" Grace pushed him away and frowned. 

"Sorry." Arthur felt his face heat up, ashamed of how he was just acting. 

"Are you okay?" she asked, looking worried.

"Yeah."

"Liar," she took his hand, "Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm just afraid of losing you, like all this is just going to go away," he confessed. 

"You won't lose me," she moved closer to him, "If anything, it should be me who's afraid of losing you."

"Nah, I ain't leaving you."

"So you've said. Why are you afraid of losing me?"

"I-- well, I guess I--" he stopped. 

"You don't think you deserve to have good things in life?"

He nodded. 

"Of course you do, Arthur. While no one in their right mind would mistake you for a saint, you have done plenty of good to deserve it in return."

"Nah, I--"

Grace placed her hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her. "You could've kept Mr. Wrobel's things, but you didn't. You helped that Albert Mason with his wonderful photographs. You're helping that silly man get his gunslinger stories for that book."

"Yeah, but--"

"You agreed to help that awful Jeremiah Compson before we found out what kind of man he really is. You helped Dr. Renaud get his medicine wagon back. You saved those two Spanish men from a life of slavery."

"But--"

"You even went face to face with a real lion. Arthur, you could have said no to all those people, but you didn't. You have probably shown more kindness to others in the short time I've known you than most people do in an entire lifetime."

"Hah, or maybe I'm just a fool."

"Well then, kiss me, you fool." Grace smiled at him and he wasted no time in doing so. 

Maybe she was right. Just a little. 


	28. Oil and Sunflowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grace steals the oil prospector's documents from Cornwall's refinery with no help from Arthur. Arthur starts thinking more seriously about his future with Grace.

Arthur and Grace rode out to Citadel Rock where Eagle Flies was already waiting and scouting the oil fields. 

"You came," Eagle Flies said, lowering his binoculars. 

"Of course we came," Arthur said, dismounting after Grace.

"Wasn't expecting both of you."

"Pfft, like I'd miss out on this," Grace said. Arthur shrugged at Eagle Flies. 

"So the foreman, his name is Danbury, he has the files in his office above the refinery room," he passed his binoculars to Arthur, "It's the window with the blind drawn up."

"I see it," Arthur said, looking through the binoculars before passing them to Grace. 

"If the files are as incriminating as we believe, Mr. Cornwall's men will destroy them if they know you're coming."

Arthur thought for a moment. "In that case, we'll send her in." He nodded to Grace who gave Eagle Flies back his binoculars. 

"Her?" Eagle Flies pointed at Grace. 

"Tell him."

Grace told Eagle Flies her plan of pretending to bring her alleged husband, the foreman, his lunch. Eagle Flies looked sceptically over at Arthur. 

"I don't know." 

"What will the files say?" Arthur asked. 

"There'll be a report from Leland Oil Development Company."

"You got money?" Arthur said before Grace smacked him in the arm. 

"Don't worry about any money," Grace said to Eagle Flies, "But if I'm going in to bring my dear husband his lunch, I need to dress the part. So if you don't mind..." She walked back to Arthur's horse. Arthur and Eagle Flies turned away. 

"You sure about this?" Eagle Flies asked. 

"No," Arthur said quietly. It might sound easy, but he knew anything could go wrong. "Any ideas how I can get in?"

"Crawl under the fence, or hide in a wagon. They keep rolling in."

"Alright, kids, we doing this?" Grace rejoined them, having changed into a plain brown skirt and tan blouse. 

"Be careful," Arthur said. 

"Always," she smiled up at him, "I'm borrowing your horse."

"Why?"

"Because I seem to have left my stagecoach at home," she joked then mounted his horse. "See you in a bit." 

They watched as she trotted down the hill and towards the refinery. Arthur felt nervous, which Eagle Flies sensed. 

"If you are quick, you could climb into the back of that wagon," he pointed down to a wagon about to pass by. Arthur nodded and ran down the hill to the back of the wagon. A train passing forced the wagon to stop so he could crawl into the back silently.

The wagon rolled up to the refinery's gate. 

"That you, Al?" the guard called out. 

"Hey, Tom," the driver greeted him, "Who's the gal?"

"Danbury's wife, apparently."

"Huh. Didn't know he was married."

"Neither did I. Anyway, picking up?" 

"Yep, supposed to meet the early train to Saint Denis."

"Okay, better get a move on, then."

The wagon continued on into the refinery. Arthur kept his head down and his ears open, trying to listen for where Grace was. The wagon stopped a short distance from the main building and the driver announced he was going to start loading it up. Arthur crept out and quickly hid behind a pyramid of pipes. He spotted his horse hitched next to the building, but he couldn't see Grace. 

He slowly crept to the building where he then heard Grace speaking. 

"He works so hard, I thought I'd surprise him!" 

"Well that's very kind of you, ma'am." 

Arthur looked and saw Grace following a guard across the main floor to a set of stairs. He quietly followed. 

"It's nice to finally have some time to do this, I should've brought some extras for you fine gentlemen."

"Aw, that's alright, ma'am."

"Sorry, what's your name?"

"Belanger."

"Oo, French. Well, thank you for your assistance, Mr. Belanger, I'll make sure my husband puts in a good word for you."

Arthur couldn't help but smile to himself. She really knew how to play the part when she needs to. He followed them up the stairs, keeping himself out of sight as much as he could. 

"This is his office, ma'am," the guard reached up to knock, but Grace stopped him. 

"It's supposed to be a surprise, remember?" she smiled politely at him. The guard nodded and he walked away. Grace knocked quietly, then walked in and shut the door. 

Arthur quickly made his way to the door, keeping an eye on the guard who had stopped to talk to another one at the end of the upper floor. He could hear Grace and the foreman inside the room. 

"But-- where is he? Where is my husband?" she cried. 

"I'm-- I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't know anyone by the name of Arthur Callahan."

Arthur smirked to himself. 

"But-- THAT BASTARD." there was a sudden crash, presumably from Grace throwing the lunch sack to the floor, "I KNEW IT. HE'S BEEN SEEING THAT HARLOT!" she wailed. 

"Um, would you like to sit down?"

"ALL THIS TIME I THOUGHT HE WAS WORKING A GOOD JOB, PROVIDING FOR OUR CHILDREN!" 

"Can.. Can I get you something to drink?"

"ARSENIC!" 

"I'll-- I'll get you some water. Please, try to calm yourself." 

Arthur flattened himself against the wall as he heard the footsteps of the foreman approaching the door. The foreman exited, closing the door carefully as if he was afraid of upsetting the poor woman having a breakdown in his office. He hurried away and Arthur quickly went into the office. 

Grace quickly shut the drawer she had been looking through, glaring when she saw who it was. "What are you doing here?" she hissed at him. 

"Making sure you were okay."

"For god's sake, I have it under control!" she opened the drawer again and rifled through the papers. "Ah, here it is." She took out the papers and read them. "Bastards."

"Good, let's get out of here," Arthur went to the door which opened as the foreman entered with a glass of water. 

"Wha-- who are you?" he shouted at Arthur who quickly shut the door, slammed the foreman against it, covering his mouth. 

"Listen, I'm very sorry, but we needed certain files from you," Grace said to the shocked foreman, "He wasn't supposed to be here, but apparently I can't cope on my own."

"Well how were you going to get out of here after you got the files?" Arthur asked her. 

"Walk out the damn door! Jesus, I doubt they would've held me hostage for being misled by my so-called husband!"

"What if you got caught?"

"I wasn't going to get caught until YOU showed up!" 

"I was worried!"

"Jesus christ, stop worrying and just trust me for once!"

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. 

"Everything alright in there?" the guard called from the other side. 

Grace crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows at Arthur. He reluctantly pulled his hand away from the foreman's mouth. The foreman didn't say anything, just looking between Arthur and Grace. 

"Um, it's okay, everything's fine, just- just taking a break," he stammered. 

"Okay, Mr. Danbury." There was silence as the guard left. 

"Alright, genius, how are we getting out of this?" Grace asked Arthur. 

"Window," he walked over to the window. 

Grace sighed, shook her head, and looked at the foreman. "See what I have to deal with? Makes me wish I really did have a cheating husband." 

"Uh--"

"Tell you what, Mr. Danbury, for the trouble and your silence, here," Grace reached into her satchel and took out some money, "We won't bother you again."

The foreman slowly took the money, still looking confused. Arthur opened the window and gestured for Grace. 

"Oh no, I'm not climbing out there. I am going out the door as I originally planned." She headed for the door, "Have a good day, Mr. Danbury." 

Arthur grumbled in frustration as Grace left the office, closing the door behind her. Mr. Danbury looked over at him, still confused. 

"Not a word," Arthur threatened before climbing out the window to the roof. He slid off, landing on the train platform. He barely stood when a few guards ran up, their guns drawn. 

"Hey hey hey! Weapons on the ground and hands in the air!" one of them yelled. 

"Easy now, fellers," Arthur said, slowly raising his hands. Where was Grace? 

"Now! We won't tell you again!" 

They were then interrupted by one of the oil derricks exploding nearby. Arthur took cover by some barrels as the guards started shooting. He groaned, realising he was now going to have to shoot his way out. 

As he did, he noticed gunfire near the flaming oil derrick. It wasn't Grace, but he was worried about her. Was she actually able to get out? Dammit, where was she?

"Arthur, come on!" Eagle Flies yelled from somewhere near the oil derrick. Arthur ran towards his voice, shooting more guards on the way. Through the smoke, he spotted Eagle Flies's paint horse and hurried to it. 

Grace galloped up on his own horse and he jumped up behind her. 

"Did you get the documents?" Eagle Flies shouted. 

"Yeah, but we need to get the hell out of here!" Arthur yelled back, hanging on to Grace's waist while shooting the guards chasing them. Eagle Flies shot some guards with his bow as they fled through the Heartlands. 

After some time, it was finally quiet and they slowed. 

"That explosion came just in time," said Arthur. 

"I was happy to watch some of that oil burn," Eagle Flies replied. They finally slowed to a halt. 

"I thought you wasn't getting involved?" Arthur asked, sliding off his horse followed by Grace. 

"I thought you were going to enter and leave silently?" 

"I had it under control!" Grace said angrily, handing Eagle Flies the papers. "It was going just fine until YOU showed up!" She poked Arthur hard in the chest. 

"We weren't sure--" Eagle Flies started.

"If I could do it? If I'd be fine? Why? Because I'm a _woman_?" She scowled at them both and threw her hands in the air. "Whatever, I'm going into town." She turned and stalked off in the direction of Valentine. 

"Well, thank you," Arthur said to Eagle Flies, "You saved my life."

"I hope, well, I don't know what I hope," Eagle Flies looked down at the papers in his hand, "but who knows, maybe these will be of some use." He put them in his saddlebag and rode away. 

Arthur mounted his horse and rode to catch up with Grace. She was still walking quickly across the grassland. 

"Get on," he said when he caught up. 

"Why couldn't you have let me do it on my own?" she turned to him angrily. "I was fine until you showed up. I would've had those papers out in no time, with no trouble, if you hadn't interfered." 

Arthur sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"I know I'm right," she crossed her arms, "And now that they've seen Eagle Flies in the area, they'll assume the Indians are involved."

"Oh."

"You need to trust me more, Arthur." 

"I do."

"No you don't. If you did, you'd have left me alone to the task." 

"Sorry."

"Yeah, you usually are." Grace turned and continued to walk to Valentine. Arthur followed. 

"You don't need to walk."

"I want to walk."

"Would you stop being so stubborn?"

"No."

Arthur grumbled, dismounted, and caught up to her. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. She screamed and started hitting his back. 

"PUT ME DOWN!" 

"Nope." He carried her to his horse and lifted her on. She glared at him as he mounted in front of her. "Now, you gonna stop being so damn stubborn and behave?"

"Pfft."

"Good," he reached back to pat her on the leg, but she grabbed his hand. 

"I hate you."

"Oh, I know," he kissed her hand with a smile and he could hear her smirk a bit, "You're impossible. So we still going to Valentine?"

"Or we could find somewhere else to go," she shrugged. 

"I thought you might have something to do in Valentine."

"Yeah, I was going to take a train back to Saint Denis and go back to the farm."

"Why?"

"Because I hate you," she hugged him tight. 

"Hah, well you're stuck with me now. How 'bout we go to your cabin? It ain't too far."

Neither spoke on the way to Grace's cabin. Arthur wondered how angry she was with him. It was hard to tell with her saying one thing but doing another. She held him around the waist closely, her head resting on his shoulder. He figured she couldn't be that angry. 

When they arrived, she immediately dismounted and entered the cabin. Arthur untacked his horse and brought the saddlebags in. Grace was sitting at her desk, writing in her journal - left-handed - and bouncing her knee anxiously. He started up the fire and looked around for something else to do. Her easel and paintings were in a disorderly state at the foot of her bed, so he started to tidy them. 

"What are you doing?" Grace asked without looking at him. 

"Just sorting your paintings," he said, looking through them. He picked up one, a portrait of red-haired man with a beard and a pipe reading in a small room. "Who's this?"

Grace turned and looked then smiled sadly. "Vincent. The man I met in France." She turned back to her journal. 

"Oh. The one who died?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." Arthur looked back at the painting. "He ever do any paintings of you?"

"I haven't seen any. He did do a drawing which he gave me. It's in the back."

Arthur turned over the canvas and saw folded piece of paper tucked in the frame. He pulled it out and opened it to reveal a stylistic drawing of Grace, sitting on a chair nude and brushing out her long hair. There was something written in the bottom corner which he couldn't read, but it was signed _Vincent_.

She turned in her chair to look at him. "I do love that drawing."

"What does this say?" he pointed to the writing. 

"' _De muze in de ochtend'_ ," she said, "'The muse in the morning'. Not sure why he wrote that, the paintings he did had nothing to do with me."

"Guess you were still inspiring," Arthur said, still not looking away from the drawing.

"Nah, more annoying than anything," she smiled, "I was still learning to paint then and I was always asking him and Paul questions, even while they were trying get work done." 

"I'd say you learned well," he turned the painting over. Grace shrugged and returned to her journal. Arthur looked back at the drawing and carefully tucked it back into the painting's frame. He continued to go through her paintings, mostly landscapes, until he stopped at another portrait. "When did you do this?" 

Grace turned to look. "A month or so ago, I think." 

"Oh." The painting was of Arthur next to his horse, his arm curled under Smokey's head to pat his neck. It was quite good, even if she should've chosen a better subject. "So were you spying on me when you painted this?"

"Nah, I painted it from memory."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to."

"Could've chosen a less ugly subject."

"Aw, but Smokey's such a handsome boy," she grinned then turned back to her journal. 

"Hah, you know what I meant."

"You're very handsome too."

Arthur laughed and put the painting back. There were a few other landscapes and he stacked them neatly. Grace closed her journal, stretched and yawned. 

"I'm tired, I think I'm going to have a nap," she untied her boots, kicked them off, and got into the bed, pulling the blankets tightly around her. Arthur decided not to join her since he wasn't tired himself. Instead he started perusing one of her bookshelves. 

The books were old. The spines were cracked and the titles were nearly worn off. He took out one book, its cover nearly falling off. _Virginia - A Tale of Love and Marriage_. He carefully opened it, but the title page read _The Castle of Wolfenbach_. In the top corner there was some very faded handwriting in pencil. Arthur walked over to the window and squinted to read it. 

_G. Be---ros- , May 1--4_

Obviously it was Grace's book, but he couldn't read the date. 1894? 1884? Maybe even 1874, if she was older than she actually looked. Certainly not any earlier. The book was far older than that, but he couldn't figure out the publishing date. _M.DCC.XCIV_. He didn't know Roman numerals very well. He knew X was 10, and IV was 4, but the others? No idea. Maybe he should've learned more about it. 

He sat down at Grace's desk, carefully moving her journal and pen to the side, and started to read the book. She had said it was one of her favourites so he may as well see what it was about.

  
It was after sunset when Grace finally woke up. Arthur had given up on the book long ago, having read only the first page over and over for an hour. He kept thinking back to what Dutch said about getting rid of Angelo Bronte. At first he didn't think it was a good idea, but after that incident where one of Bronte's men recognised Grace, he just didn't know. 

"You okay?" Grace hugged him from behind. 

"Hm?"

"I was just asking what you wanted to eat, but you're miles away," she rested her chin on his shoulder. 

"Oh, just thinkin'," he reached up to hold her arm and leaned his head to hers. 

"I know, there's smoke coming out your ears," she joked. 

"Shut up," he smiled, then sighed, "Dutch wants to get rid of Angelo Bronte."

"Oh." She let go and backed away. "So much for lying low, huh?"

"Hah, I don't think we'll ever be lying low," he stood, "So you don't think it's a good idea then? Getting rid of Bronte?"

She didn't reply right away. "I don't know. I mean, we'd probably all be better off without people like him around, but how many more enemies are you planning on making?"

"Seems like we're already making enemies of everyone." He watched as she started taking down jars and inspecting their contents. "What happened at the Bronte mansion?"

"I kept Jack safe."

"But what happened after he gave Jack back?"

Grace paused. "I wasn't needed anymore so they terminated my employment."

"Oh." 

"Can you fill this with water, please?" she handed him a pot. He nodded and brought it out to the water pump. As he did, his mind reeled with what he should do. 

It was getting more and more difficult. Of course he'd stand by Dutch and the gang, there was no question on that. But now with Grace in his life... He couldn't give her up. He'd only known her for a few months but it felt like a lifetime. It was hard to imagine his life without her now. But maybe... Maybe with her help, they could all escape up to Canada, get lost up there as she had suggested. He could stay with her, travel with her wherever she wanted to go, and he can always stay with the gang when they were back. 

Maybe they could even get married. Have a family, the family neither of them were able to have yet. That was possible, wasn't it?

"Arthur!"

"Hm?" he looked up to see Grace standing in the doorway. 

"Pretty sure it's full now," she grinned. He looked down to see the pot overflowing with water. 

"Oh shit, sorry." He poured out some of the water and brought it back to the cabin. 

"You seem to have a lot on your mind," she took the pot and put it on the stove, adding in some ingredients from the jars. "Sit. Tell me what's going on."

Arthur sat down at the table, but didn't know where to start. Or how much he should tell her. 

"It's the whole Bronte thing," he said, "As much as I hate that he set us up, I don't think we should try to take him on."

"So use the money I've already given you to escape."

"It's gone."

"What do you mean it's gone?" she turned to him, frowning. 

"I kept it in my trunk, but it's missing." He leaned back in his chair. "I don't know who took it."

"And no one's suddenly come across a bunch of money?" 

"No, I don't think so."

"Hm. Well, if you need more to escape, I can get you more."

Arthur didn't say anything, but looked around the cabin. 

"I don't keep it all here," she laughed, "It's in the bank."

"Oh." 

"And not all in the Saint Denis bank. It's in multiple banks across the States and Canada. Never know what might happen." 

"Bad time to mention they're planning on robbing the Saint Denis bank, huh?"

"Seeing as you've already robbed the banks in Valentine and Rhodes, I'm not surprised," she stirred the soup, "I won't actually lose the money if it gets stolen out of the bank because they have insurance, but it ends up being a whole big mess while the bank and the insurance company sort things out. But you won't need to rob the bank if you take my money."

"Okay."

"Wait, what?" She turned to him in surprise. "You're actually going to take it this time?"

"Yes. On one condition."

"I can't come with you."

"Then I'll stay with you."

Arthur expected her to be happy or even just surprised. He certainly didn't expect her to suddenly burst into tears. He quickly stood and embraced her. She cried into his shoulder for a moment before pulling away. 

"Why would you give up people you've known your entire life for someone you just met?" 

He kissed her intensely before she pushed him away. Before he had time to react, she pulled him back to her with such ferocity she drew blood from his lip. Soon, they were a flurry of hands and torn shirt buttons and fervid kisses. She held him tightly as he repeatedly told her he loved her. 

Grace lay back on the table, trying to catch her breath as Arthur panted over her. He lay his head on her chest and listened to her pounding heartbeat. After a few moments, he became aware that she was crying. 

"You okay?" he looked up at her. 

"Yeah, it's just..." she paused and started sobbing, "It's just I'm so _happy_."

Arthur chuckled and kissed her collarbone. "Me too, darlin'." 


End file.
